Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed!
by Iniora Nackatori
Summary: A prankster from SG3. The survivor of SG6. And... A medic? X, Zero, and Axl. Three Hunters. Three Jobs. One very unlucky universe. A crossover between Stargate SG1 and the Rockman X Universe. Now... Remixed!
1. Chapter 1

Come on people, laugh with me! Laugh with me in my evil epiphany! It took me _way_ too long to do this, I know, but at last, it is done! The prologue has been re-written and is now... Remixed! Shout for joy, people! 

Blame the plot bunnies on Rockman ZX, folks!

...No, seriously, I've got a whole heard of them sitting under my bed, looking at me expectantly as I type this out. Doesn't help I have the Rockman ZX Theme song blaring out of my speakers, either.

Moving on! -- For those who are new to the program, welcome. For old hands, welcome back. It's high past time to rewrite this sucker into something manageable and close off those blasted plot holes!

Furthermore: Erk. Sticky, sticky thing, these crossovers. One minute, you've got them. The next, and they're off in hiding because they're just so _weird_ at some points not even my brain can wrap around it all... And I'm the one who came up with them! (Consider this a catch-all disclaimer for delays in both this and _Sennen Yami_... which is still under debate as I've only got **_three_** reviews on the poor thing...)

Alright. _Now_ here's the story.

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

_Remixed Chapter One_

* * *

Klaxons whined in time with signals flashing blood red in otherwise pitch-black darkness. Bolts of plasma ricocheted off titanium walls, leaving behind scorch marks and dents at least three inches deep. What looked like some kind of liquid stained what had once been an immaculate white floor a strange tinge of crimson black.

Three pairs of booted feet dashed through those stained halls, kicking up whatever it was which coated the floors in their haste. They traveled in a single line, their movements in near perfect sync. Even as they dipped into a side tunnel of pure darkness, they still remained together.

After all, it was hard to get lost if the lead unit's hair was long enough to continually whack the rear two units in the face.

"We're almost to Dr. Cain's old lab," the centermost unit of the tiny group spoke, his voice just loud enough to carry to his comrades.

The rear guard spoke with a strange teasing whine, "But I wanted to see if Siggy's back!"

"We'll find out _after_ we've met up with Signas and the others," the centermost countered bluntly.

"Che - yeah right, kid," their point man laughed.

"Well how do you know Sigma's not back?"

A vaguely humanoid shape towering nearly seven feet high lunged at their lead through the darkness, screaming, "I've found you, Hunters!"

Only to meet its end with casual swing of a plasma sword reducing it to ribbons.

"That, answer your question?"

"Yep."

It was only when the trio stood before an aged, rusted door that they stopped again. The whining klaxon had at last stopped berating their eardrums, its flashing red counterpart making way for normal hallway illumination.

"Took them long enough to cut the alarm," the rear guard huffed. The supposed leader of the trio exchanged a look with their centermost unit.

"Bad feeling?" the latter questioned their former point-man.

"Very," the trio's leader answered. "You may want to speed this up a little."

"There they are!"

"Crap, X, hurry it up!"

"Get them!"

"Move!"

"Zero!"

"Die, Hunters! Die!"

Movement flickered as though the giant movie reel of reality were slowing down, reaching its last few breathtaking scenes. Slowly, movement stilled 'til it was nothing more than a photographic still.

And the world was awash in a mushroom cloud of pure white light.

_Earth; SGC Infirmary_

Colonel Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill, former retired Air Force veteran and Black Ops specialist with a talent for finding a hundred and one uses for C-4, was not having a very good day. Three hours ago, SG-1 had been on a basic diplomatic mission to a normally peaceful people's little village in an effort to see whether or not their planet needed to be added to the Asguard's Protected Planets treaty. Two hours of negotiations had passed with the younger, less experienced - though apparently more respected - SG-6 linguist slash negotiator appearing to make headway.

Keyword here being "apparently".

The results of a sudden skirmish thirty minutes ago now left him lying on his favorite cot in the SGC infirmary.

"Alright." A latex glove slapped against previously exposed flesh, all five foot three of his CMO seeming to tower above him. "What happened this time?"

"It was the Fruit Loops' fault. Honest, doc."

Given the glare he was receiving, he highly doubted his own personal vampire believed him.

"...But it was!"

"Stow it, Colonel," Chef Medical Officer Dr. Janet Frasier countered her military superior with a voice as cold as steel.

If one wanted to compare worst days ever, it would become instantly apparent that Dr. Fraiser was by far having a Seriously Bad Day. While it may be true that Colonel Jack O'Neill's day included being shot at by alien humans whose most advanced weapon was a crossbow and flaming arrows, it did not contain something infinitely worse.

Paperwork. Mix in a large amount of what basically boiled down to babysitting Marines who thought Fireballs were the cure to all ills, toss in a few meetings with Pentagon higher-ups asking why she was putting in requests for better assistance than what she had now, and add in the fact she was running on less than two hours of sleep and cramming all of the above within a twelve hour timeframe.

In total, it equaled up to Dr. Fraiser being one stupid comment away from snapping.

"Well, how was I supposed to know calling the head honcho's wife-lady cute would count as flirting?"

Janet felt her face flush in rage. The proverbial straw hit the camel's back, and her resolve broke.

Without warning, Dr. Fraiser "extracted" -- read: ripped clear out, miraculously avoiding further damage than was necessary -- the arrow from Colonel O'Neill's calf. Her reward was a yell of pain hitting a decibel which nearly broke glass.

"Dr. Jackson, I have a specimen for you," Janet stated without even bothering to look in the incoming archeologist's direction.

"Ah, that's... great, Janet, but..." And here Dr. Jackson wisely chose to shut up. One look at Janet's utterly exhausted complexion coupled with several mutterings that sounded something along the lines of "But it really was the Fruit Loops..." emanating from Jack's cot, and he had all the information he needed to know.

"Morphine." Janet's deadpan voice knocked him back to reality by way of explanation.

"So I figured." Dr. Jackson barely fought down the urge to smirk. "I take it he told you how he managed to get us in hot water this time?"

"Unfortunately." Dr. Fraiser released a long, depressing sigh. "If this keeps up much longer, Daniel, _I'm_ the one who's going to need to be locked up in a nice, quiet, padded cell."

Daniel chose to remain silent, taking both the cleaned arrow and his leave without comment. Mentally, he made a note to bring up the lack of competent help with General Hammond first thing at their debriefing. Janet was not joking about slowly cracking under the pressure.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit how much that scared him.

* * *

_A Field in the Middle of No and Where_

* * *

Things could be summed up simply with one single little word: Ow.

Everything hurt, including his hair. Reports were flooding in as his systems took stock of damage. Soft neon words flickered into what should have been near night-dark vision, displaying three different lists. A gentle mental nudge on his part cut the three lists by two, leaving only one list outlined with urgent red neon.

_Critical Damage_ was the list's title. Underneath were three separate lists, one outlined in gold, one outlined in blue, and the final outlined in pastel red. A modicum of concentration was spared to the shortest gold outlined sub-list, just enough to tag auto repair into motion, before it too was dismissed.

He released one long sigh of relief into the air. X and Zero had nothing their auto repairs and a few long days of rest would not be able to fix.

A kind of tickle in the back of his mind, coupled with a groan laced with enough curses to turn most mothers' pink with mortification, alerted Axl to Zero's returning consciousness.

"Bloody mother f-" the word trailed off under his strained breath. There was a momentary pause followed by a dull _thwack_ as Zero's strength gave out from under him. "Damn!"

"That you, Zero?" Axl questioned without need.

Noise ceased. "Kid?" Zero's voice was tentative, a mix of concern echoing with caution.

"Yeah." Axl wiggled his foot experimentally, the toe of his boot clunking against familiar hardness. "And I'm pretty sure that's X's head down by my foot."

A hand grabbed his ankle. "Then stop kicking me."

Axl felt himself laughing even as prickles of _relief_ and _annoyance_ poked the background of his mind from their two unique sources. Just because his last name was Light did _not_ mean X was a morning person. Truth be told, the only one who could get near him without running risk of losing life or limb before midmorning was Alia.

As if Hunter HQ needed yet another piece of proof X had a crush on the blond Spotter.

"Ugh." Metal scraping against dirt could be heard as Zero pulled himself closer to Axl and X. "Anybody get the number off that eighteen-hover?"

"Yeah," Axl quipped. "Cain."

"Was not," X defended his past father figure as he too struggled to get up.

"Was to," Axl countered, sitting up with Zero's help.

"Was not." X was halfway sitting up as well, leaning his head against a reluctant worse-for-wear red Hunter's shoulder.

"Was to, and you know it. He built the portable teleport unit."

The general buzz of consciousness Axl had come to expect whenever he was close enough to make physical contact with the elder Hunters jolted to an unnaturally abrupt halt. Blinking, the younger lifted his head enough to see X and Zero looking at him, their expressions of shock made all the more obvious by their semi-disheveled appearance.

"Axl. How did you know Dr. Cain had been working on a portable teleport unit?"

Oh. Crap. It was _that_ tone of voice. The tone of voice Zero only used when there was a serious problem on the floor and no amount of jokes or delay tactics would be able to cover it up. A tone of voice normally reserved for deadly meetings in Signas' office, normally with the High-Commander himself in attendance.

X was, perhaps, a little too silent. It almost looked -- no, almost _felt_, as though X believed his trust had been betrayed in a way. That Axl had used his recently gained status to look into things X had trusted the boy _not_ to look into.

"I didn't hack anything, I swear!"

Zero's voice was still placating, "No one said you did, Axl."

"You don't have to say it to think it," he quipped halfheartedly.

_(I really, really didn't want to talk about _this_ now but... If I don't, X's gonna hate me. Again.)_

"I never hated you, Axl."

"What do you mean, again?"

Two voices, each one as confused as the other, spoke in near perfect unison.

X and Zero exchanged a look with one another. Axl's palm slapped against his face.

_(Oh, man... Why'd I have to go and blow it _now?) The child Hunter moaned within his mind while sighing aloud.

"Yes," Axl lifted his hand just enough to make eye contact with Zero, "you _are_ hearing my thoughts in your head. I can hear yours too, Zero, and no, X, it's not because your internal radios are on. Which they're not. No matter how much I wish they were, they're not."

This was becoming one of those rare times when Zero's jaw managed to wiggle itself just loose enough to hang unchecked in disbelief. Whether or not that was worse than X simply staring at him, both physical and emotional expression unreadable, Axl wasn't quite sure.

"...This... is going kinda be a... sorta long... explanation..."

'Why?' Axl silently implored the universe. 'Why couldn't the earth just open up and swallow you when you wanted it to?'

* * *

_2 Weeks Later_

"One order of slap-jacks, hold the pig!"

Blond hair cascaded behind well-toned shoulders, the owner of said hair ignoring the constant ringing of the chef on duty. Blue eyes, closed for a moment in exasperation, turned back to glare at the spiky orange haired chef assistant.

"You're just getting a kick out of this, aren't you?" blonde growled. The orange-haired boy smiled innocently.

"Hey, it'll be your turn next time."

The long-haired blond just growled. He straightened his typical restaurant work clothing, taking the plate of food with more force than was necessary. With a grace normally reserved for taking people apart, he turned, heading towards the bustle of the diner. He passed his short, brown-haired, green-eyed companion on his way towards his waiting customer.

"X," he growled.

"I know, Zero." X sighed, punching another order into the register. "If it helps, I'm starting to want to kill him, too."

Zero smiled slightly to himself. "Here's your flap-jacks, pal. Anything else I can get yah?"

The large bald man smiled up at him, his slight girth adding to his gentle warmth. He was wearing a black jacket over his blue Air Force uniform and, from the looks of it, seemed to be wearing a General's rank.

"Just some syrup, son." He smiled. Zero nodded, walking back towards the bane of his existence - more commonly known as Axl's kitchen.

"Yo, spike-pit for brains!" Zero sang back into the kitchen.

"You summoned, oh blond lord of lack-luster fashion?" Axl shot back, his face appearing in the pickup window.

"We have any maple syrup back there?" Zero demanded.

"What? Did you run out of gel?"

"Are you mad, boy! Me? Use gel on _my_ hair!" He grabbed the offered amber-colored semi-liquid in one fast swipe. "Unlike you, child, I know how to handle my hair, and gel is a definite no-no."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!" Axl shouted after him.

X sighed from his spot at the cash register. The last two weeks had been a blur.

First there had been Axl's confession of sorts. Then, once he had returned to the scene of confused chaos _that_ particular bombshell had dropped on them, he dropped two more bombshells. His first bombshell had involved the fact that they were still on earth but _not_ in the year 21XX. His second was that his favorite radio station had been playing a celli quartet instead of its normal rock and roll.

At which point X had been forced to restrain Zero in an effort to stop him from strangling the poor boy.

Then there had been moving from job to job, always moving farther and farther away from their landing zone. He realized it would make it harder for them to be tracked, but it was a necessary evil. They had to get some form of cash. The Class-S Hunters' wanderings had finally landed them near the base of NORAD and, for the moment, a stable source of income.

Zero had come up with their identification. He hadn't really said _how_ he'd gotten them legal IDs, or social security numbers, or checking accounts, or any of the like. Nor had the Bloody Hunter said what, exactly, he had put into their backgrounds. Whatever it had been, it was good enough to get them several odd-end jobs here, there, and now in Colorado. He did recall, however, something about Axl's high school record involving a lot of prank-earned detentions...

The more X thought about it, the less he really wanted to know.

Trouble came walking in. The Blue Bomber eyed their new patrons carefully.

Shiny bald head, beady brown almost black eyes, tight poorly fitting bad-all-around black leather, more than one of the same kind of person... Yep. Somebody had recently loosed a pack of organic Sigma clones. And, from the looks of it, they were _not_ happy.

Just to prove his point, the leader pulled a six-shot revolver. X looked down at it, barely even blinked, before looking back up at the leader of the six person biker gang. The larger man smirked, echoing the clicks of at least twelve more guns, all of differing calibers, armed and locking in on X's brown haired head.

"Cash," he growled. X was very glad he could turn off his olfactory sensors whenever he wished, because the man's breath was...well... nasty beyond words.

"There's an ATM around the corner," X answered. He caught Axl slipping out of the kitchen, taking up a position between the bikers and the remainder of the innocent patrons. Zero was still bustling around, keeping the patrons from panicking by filing their orders in record time.

"Sorry, but we lost our ATM cards." The first biker snickered.

"Then I highly suggest you contact your bank." X placed the restaurant's cordless phone on the counter. "Here's a phone, in case you've lost yours."

The trigger clicked back, locking the hammer in place. "You're gonna be our bank. All the money in the register, now!"

And before anyone had a chance to blink, X had hopped the counter and disarmed the first of many organic Sigma wannabes through the use of an uppercut and a shove back outside through the main entrance, leaving Axl and Zero to quickly disarm the remainder. Realizing he was not about to get back in with X standing between him and the diner doorway, the leader grabbed a spare gun from his black motorcycle and took aim. X moved fast, disarming him again by flipping him over the side of his bike. Once the bike gang boss was stomach down, the Blue Bomber proceeded to give the man something his mother had apparently forgotten to give him when he was younger.

General George Hammond stared, wide eyed, as the man whom he was about to write off as another lost cause for an assistant to Janet began to give the gun wielding intruder a spanking. He slowly put his coffee down, flagging his blond waiter.

"Check please."

"Be a minute!" the blond waiter snapped back. Hammond leaned out of the booth he was in slightly, looking at why his waiter, who had seemed like such an even-tempered man, was suddenly yelling at him.

Low and behold, he was helping the young orange-haired chef tie down the remaining six or seven members of the intrusive biker gang. All of whom were several times larger than the two boys put together.

The blond haired man stood up, patting his hands together so as to get the dust off. He turned back to face Hammond, his eyes twinkling slightly in hidden pride.

"Go ahead, Z. X should be about done with the first loser. He can help me carry this trash down to the station." The spiky orange haired boy smiled, his green eyes also lit with the sparkle of victory.

"Z" walked over to Hammond, withdrawing his notepad and pen. "Sorry about that, sir. How can I help you?"

Hammond played with his coffee cup for a moment, looking up at his young waiter slyly. "How would you and your two associates be interested in an extreme job advancement?"


	2. Chapter 2

Forgot to mention this last time; (_Blah._) stands for telepathic speech, assuming the site lets me use this format. Eh. We'll see.

(Insert Time Stamp Here) between paragraphs will be used as sub-scene changes within a flashback. You'll see it later on.

Menolly5600: ...Wow... Now _that_'s a review! Thank you for catching those errors! They have now been fixed (though I could have sworn I switched it to Signas the first time...). Also, sorry about dropping their initial reactions. They just... didn't fit right in the remix. Don't worry, though. I have plenty to make up for it comedy wise evil snicker.

Okay, yeah, and one more warning to issue before it becomes a problem. **_THIS IS A NON-YAOI FIC!_** If any of the scenes give you dirty thoughts, then you have had your head in the gutter for _way_ too long. Editor's Note: Too true.

Final warning: Zero will be breaking out his lovely vocabulary starting this chapter.

Final _final_ note: If anyone wants me to put back in the definition of terms, let me know via Review, and I'll plug them in at the end of Chapter 1 again.

__

* * *

__

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

_Chapter 2 Remixed_

* * *

"Zero, I have to know. What _exactly_ did you put in my record?"

Ten minutes and several breathing sessions later, X was very, very sorry he'd asked.

Zero had taken an extreme liberty with his pacifistic nature. X had been molded from the commander of the 17th Maverick Hunter Unit to the head medic of a small hospital, which had recently folded from the rising cost of medical coverage, located outside of Maples, Kansas (which appeared to be the name of the town they had landed in). He had landed quite literally in Zero's lap after his medical training sans doctorate degree had dumped him in the US without any sort of guide. From there, he met Axl, and as a consequence thereof, took up said job at their local hospital.

Zero hinted something about the fact Axl had dabbled in football as a reason _why_ X had taken such a stressful job. There had also been mentions of broken bones and poorly mended egos -- adding any more detail than that sent Zero off into laughing tangents lasting for hours at a time.

Zero had also taken the time to fill in Axl about his new roll. He was now signed on as a translator of ten different languages, several of which included Russian, Sioux, Japanese, Chinese, Korean –

"But I don't like North Korea _or_ China!"

"That's because they're as stubborn as you."

"Hey!" -

And Vietnamese, just to name a few. He was also listed as the self-proclaimed King of Drama even though he could never get up the nerve to act in front of anyone other than his friends

"And this brings us to my file," Zero snickered. He tapped the computer screen teasingly. "I've got gun licenses for ten different firearms, a hunting license that expired last year, and fishing license due to go out next month, have a black belt from five different studies of martial arts, and a waiver to carry a concealed sword."

"They still have those?" Axl blinked, staring at his mentor blankly.

"Yep."

X, in the mean time, was still having a mental argument with himself on whether or not he should waste the energy on strangling the leader of Unit Zero. He finally decided sometime later not to.

"Tell me one more time, Zero!" Axl's voice whined from the main room of their two-room apartment.

"Alright, alright," X could hear the slight laugh in his friend's voice hidden under the fake bravado of annoyance. "So, the First Maverick War was when X was promoted to Commander of the 17th Hunter Unit..."

* * *

Colonel Jack O'Neill was not having a very good day. Janet had yet to find the time between sleeping, eating, and trying to keep patients alive to fill out the paperwork to return him to active duty. General Hammond had recently informed him that two ex Eagle Scouts who dabbled in the Boys and Girls Club of America mentor program with very unusual records and one medic who had graduated fifth in his medical class at a little known school in some backcountry non-US city-state even _Daniel_ had never heard of, were soon going to be joining the SGC. They had relatively no military service, even though one of them had a rare little slip of paper saying he could carry around _katanas_ and _kodachis_ in his back pocket.

Well... _kodachis_, yeah. _Katanas_ were really, really hard to hide in a back pocket, seeing as they normally ran the length of the wielder's arm. Now that he was thinking about it, so were _kodachis_, seeing as they were crosses between _katanas_ and daggers, so they'd make quite an interesting bulge and...

But back on the point of why Jack was having a bad day.

He and his team, Teal'c included, were going to be the royal escorts for the Diner Trio. All three of whom were currently walking towards him like astronauts, the sun at their back, their steps in near perfect unisons, and their attitudes showing as clear as crystal in every act they made.

A boy about the age of nineteen with a bounce in his step to match was on the far left end of their line. Wild, orange hair was sticking out the front opening of his backwards white and blue baseball cap, while even more hair was spilling out behind it, reaching about his mid back in length. Emerald eyes flashed in all directions, taking in the guards at the entrance, the supply truck as it was checked by the MPs before departing the checkpoint. With his casual dress of a white and blue t-shirt and off-yellow dirty pants, Jack was pretty sure he could drop this kid in any American city and lose him in an instant, even with the hair and unusual cross-shaped well hidden scar. He mentally tagged the boy as a possible candidate for Black Ops training.

The middle of the Diner Trio seemed to be the middle aged one. He was laid-back in his movements, his streaming ankle-length pure blond hair, kept back out of the way by a simple thin holder, kept time with his loose bounce. A military issue duffle bag was casually resting over his shoulder, held in place by his loose grip on the bag's handles. Red seemed to be his predominate color, seeing as he wore a plain red t-shirt and red jeans. His ice blue eyes observed O'Neill and his team casually, stopping for only a moment at Teal'c, widening for something around half a second, before returning to looking like normal, almost board eyes. Jack took a careful note about the fluid way he walked. He would have put money on the fact blond boy was their swordsman.

The last one of the Trio was kind of short, and looked more like a boy just reaching his twenties than a man of the humble age of thirty-five. He had short brown hair which liked to go everywhere but down. When he thought about it hard enough, Jack could almost see the resemblance between this member of the Trio's hair and Daniel's after his archeologist had worn his combat helmet for too long. This guy had a liking for blue: blue jeans, blue tank top, blue tennis shoes even. His eyes, though, were what caught Jack's interest. They were a solid amber-green and were just as hard as diamonds.

The civilian in him fought down an involuntary shiver. This guy had eyes that screamed "I can kill you and not bat an eyelash about it", but it was a controlled kind of look. Like he wouldn't do it unless Jack decided to get stupid enough to go between him and whatever he was after.

It was the killer who extended his hand in greeting.

"Hi." His voice was warm and friendly. _Just like a cat just before he gets up and eats you..._ Jack's mind shuddered.

Jack forced a smile on his face, taking the offered hand. "Hi. You must be the new boys. The guys Hammond got from the diner?"

"That's us!" the youth piped in. He draped himself over the blond as if to include him in the statement. The blond casually shrugged him off, leaving him to fall flat face down on the dirt.

SG-1 stood staring at them blankly. Even Teal'c was giving them his trademark one-eyebrow raise of disbelief.

These_ are the guys the General wants?_ Major Samantha Carter, scientist extraordinaire, blinked in the back of her mind. The Trio was attentive in the elevator. Even the young orange-haired goofball was listening, though not necessarily hanging on, to every thing Jack and Daniel were telling them. _What could he have seen them do to make him want to pull almost every trick he had to get them clearance?_

But she hadn't noticed the goofball taking in every last detail, noting quickly where every possible exit was, where every guard was posted, every emergency exit marking and alert button they passed. She never noticed that the slight giggle from the orange haired teen was meant something more along the lines of _figured out how to make an exit_ than a straight giggle of excitement. And the boy really did mean _make_ an exit, as in blow up a wall or three with a couple of well-placed C-4 packs.

Teal'c, however, was quickly coming to the conclusion that, of all three, the young boy was the most dangerous. He had caught every last subtle shift of eyes, every last innocent gesture meant to allow him a clearer view of possible escape routes.

The boy locked his eyes with Teal'c, nodded slightly, smiled, and winked at him, before bouncing on the blonde again, laughing. "Are we there yet?"

The former First Prime of Apophis fought back a blink. The child had just signaled the fact he knew Teal'c knew what he was doing... and that he didn't care.

Daniel's relative impression of the group as a whole, especially the long haired blond, was that they were all relatively nice, normal guys, who just happened to catch the eye of a certain talent agent going by the name of General Gorge Hammond. The blond and he had quickly worked into a debate on their way down about different archeological backgrounds and histories on several earth cultures.

Daniel paused for a moment, laughing. "I guess you're going to be the new translator?"

"Nah," the blonde had smiled. He ducked another grab by the boy, this time grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "He is."

"Uh...Hi...?" the orange-haired boy waved slightly, looking almost exactly like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Hi." Daniel blinked. The blonde allowed orange to slip through. Orange Hair stuck his tongue out at blondie before redirecting his bounce towards their silent, brown-haired companion, who was still listening like a statue to Jack. "...Gods help me if I have to tutor him..."

Blondie just laughed.

* * *

Axl sighed, plopping down on his own bed. For once in his life, he wasn't being forced to share quarters with anyone. Not with X. Not with Zero. Not with some recruit who was going to get killed as soon as Sigma got board again.

_(Axl?)_

Axl laughed both aloud and within his mind. (_I'm fine, X. Just soaking in the fact they gave me my _own room!) Axl could almost feel X wince at the boy's near shout.

(_That was stupid,_) Zero's voice shot in next. Axl pouted. Zero's answer was to laugh. (_You know, X, when we get back to HQ, we really have to have a talk with Signas. Compared to Hammond's office, we've got closets._)

(_But he also has more paperwork._) There was a pause, like a calm wind before the storm, (_And he also has the NID to try and filter through._)

A feeling of _rage_ swept from the section of the link which led to Zero's domain. (_X?_)

_Calm_ filtered from X's segment. (_Get in line, Zero._)

Axl listened to his two heroes as they swapped idle conversation about Hammond and his flagship team. He had to admit it. It felt _good_ to hear them, to _feel_ their emotions mingle with his own as their banter idly wound down for the night. It felt more than just good, Axl decided to himself, to have had them accept him and his, for lack of a more appropriate noun, curse.

There was no possible way he would ever forget those first breathtaking moments when he unbarred the links he had barricaded as tightly as he could, and felt X and Zero consciously _reach_ for his own mind...

* * *

_Two Weeks and One Talent Agent Earlier in the middle of a certain corn field..._

* * *

Terrified.

There was no simpler way to explain it. Sneaking his way back through soon-to-be-pop-corny-goodness, he was completely and utterly terrified. Sure, he'd managed to get out his explanation to them, only to turn tail and run like some kind of scalded kitten from the ninth level of hell.

Hell, they probably thought he _was_ from the ninth level of hell.

Why hadn't he let Alia talk him into practice explanation runs?

* * *

(Three Hours Earlier)

The air was silent enough to hear the _snap_ as Zero brought his jaw back under control.

Axl held up an exhausted hand, "Please, Zero, just, don't ask. At least... not out loud." He sighed, a tired, anguished sigh. "You have _no_ idea how hard this is for me to explain." Rolling his eyes, he almost giggled, "Yes, X, I really _am_ trying not to listen to what you're thinking. It's a lot harder than before, though, and I'm pretty sure it's due to the fact all three of us are in various stages of shock and... Yeah. Okay. Enough stalling. You're gonna want to be comfy for this."

Axl waited a moment for the two Hunters to organize themselves into some semblance of comfort, before taking a deep breath. He was so nervous and embarrassed he had switched back to his old habit of poking his index fingers together.

"Remember...remember back after Lumine tentacle whipped me but good? How badly I was out of it and how close..." Axl shivered. "Right... Skip that part. Bad memories all around.

"Well...I guess...I got so close to the edge...close to death or...or something. Lumine's tentacle hit triggered _something_. Some kind of emergency protocol or... something, I don't really know what. But whatever it was, it...it linked me, somehow, to you. To... both of you."

This time he didn't allow even a breath for that to sink in before barreling onwards.

"I didn't know. I honestly didn't know. Not until later and...the thing. Whatever it is. It needed time to grow, to get stronger, before I really started noticing anything. That leave time Lifesaver tossed me on by locking me in the medical ward? Turned out to be the perfect amount of time for it to..." Axl shivered again, not with the cold of a near-death memory, but with a kind of self-loathing attitude. "...Sink its teeth in your respective heads...

"The cleanup sweep you guys ran while I was on leave was when it _really_ made an impact. Remember how they managed to toss that lovely little tech toy in and scramble the signals but good? Everything you sent out got out, but everything Alia and the Spotters tried to send in was scrambled up worse than X's energy drinks up until I showed up with a pissed Lifesaver on my tail and screwed with Alia's radio set, running it through my own internal radio?

"...I didn't use the radio to get in contact with you. I couldn't. The thing was fried..."

X and Zero exchanged a meaningful look. "Define fried." To his credit, Zero's voice held its normal calm.

"Hardboiled would have been a better definition, only there wasn't any water involved. Alia checked. Ran it through about a hundred different tests." Axl snorted in laughter, as though chuckling at a sour joke. "My system isn't even interface compatible with the main one...

"Once she had that figured out, she confronted me. She didn't blame me for anything, X. I... I felt like such a kid. I... I went straight to denial. Then shock, when she showed me the hunk of charred plastic which _had_ been the radio. Finally... Well, guilt hit. Even after Lifesaver's Guilt Squishing Fist of Doom, it still stuck around.

"Lifesaver, right. He checked me over again. Every last little component he could check without getting in too deep, he looked over, and tested, and... Well... Turns out my Copy Matrix can make permanent alterations... I've got like a, I don't know, an overactive section of my processor which normally doesn't do anything. It hasn't fried itself -- hell, it's gotten _more_ active and gained mass since Lifesaver started monitoring it. Ack!" Axl put both hands up as if to stave off an attack. "Panic! Bad idea! Don't! It's not gaining mass anymore, honest! Lifesaver says it stopped gaining mass about the same time I got switched back to active duty."

X seemed to sag in relief.

Eyes downcast, Axl whimpered, "But it is getting stronger."

Zero tensed.

"I try not to listen. I really, honestly, try _not_ to. They're your thoughts, not mine. I don't have a right to listen in on them. Alia and Lifesaver have helped out a lot, covering for the little slips I made now and then. Alia even got me a book she found in your library, X; _Your Mind and You_? That helped a lot, too..."

"They've been getting worse though, haven't they, Axl?" X's voice was calm, comforting, _understanding_. Axl could only nod, muted by embarrassment and more than a hint of shame.

"How bad?"

"Zero." X elbowed his former teacher, scolding him for his seemingly careless tone. Zero ignored it, repeating his question once more.

"Answer me, Axl. How bad?"

His answer came, not in spoken words, but in a small feeling. Like a note pushed under an otherwise sealed door, he almost saw Axl's answer as he 'heard' it.

(_You used to love someone named Iris._)

"I... I should go figure out where we are now. Bye!"

As quickly as he could, Axl stood up, ignoring his own aches and the dull worse-than-ache thrum of shock from Zero, and ran.

* * *

("Present")

Axl slowly placed one hand behind his head, trying desperately not to shake.

"So... Yeah. Remember when you thought things couldn't get any worse? Well... They're worse. We're not in 21XX anymore. We're in the year 2002. January 6, 2002, to be exact. Oh, yeah, and according to the sign we're in cornfield located in Kansas and the only reason I know about it really not being 21XX is because 90.1 FM doesn't have any good music on it anymore; just a bunch of classical songs like celli quartets and Wall Street Stock Reports which is really stupid since rock way outdoes Wall Street and -- _Ack!_ Please don't kill me, Zero!"

On second thought, maybe trying to lessen reality's blow with a crack about the celli quartet hadn't been such a great idea.

"_Axl!_" Zero lunged for orange hair, clawed fingers missing their target by a fraction of an inch courtesy of a timely blue tackle.

It wasn't just terror which stopped Axl from moving even an inch from where he'd landed rump-first in shock. It was the fact that, while Zero may have been yelling obstinacies per normal at X, for not only sitting on him, but having stopped his attack mid execution, his emotions spoke differently. And it wasn't just the normal overflow emotions Axl could hear. It was almost as though Zero was purposely trying to push his thoughts towards him in an effort to hear their counterpart's echo.

(_He's not scared of me...?_)

Zero's head whipped back to face Axl, his blond ponytail slapping X across the face. "Fuck no, I'm not scared of you, Axl! Thoroughly enraged, maybe-"

(_Not!_) Zero's mind all but screamed.

"We talked about it while you were scouting, Axl." X moved off the blond-haired warrior, giving his ponytail a yank equal parts teasing and punishment. "Since there's no sign that this link will stop growing, and may in fact grow to dangerous proportions should it continue to be blocked, we've decided to give you our permission to read our thoughts."

Axl started at the two as though they had gained extra heads.

(_You're not scared you're not scared you're not scared... And that terrifies me._)

(_We accept you, idiot! Of course it terrifies you!_) Zero's 'voice' echoed and rebounded, a distant whisper despite its volume.

(_We accept you, Axl, for who you are._) X's voice now, as soft as Zero's, but just as demanding in its tone.

When he had started crying, Axl wasn't sure. All he could remember were Zero's hands gently cupping his face, resting his helmeted forehead against his own, his feelings of _warmth_ and _acceptance_ trying to flood him. All he could remember was X's gentle grip on his hand, his whispered words of nothingness alternating with pulsating feelings of _understanding_ as Axl openly sobbed.

And that single breathtaking, heart stopping moment, as Axl's willingness to open his own mind to his friends joined with Zero's constant attempt to push his feelings towards Axl rusted the last lock on Axl's link with Zero's mind free.

Both of them had doubled over from the shock, Zero grabbing tight to Axl's shoulders as Axl's one free hand gripped Zero's forearm in an effort to keep themselves upright. Whatever X had exclaimed was lost in the rush of mind touching mind. A chain reaction of feelings cascading outwards, memories good and ill sweeping forward, two separate entities' thoughts mixing into one constant whole.

The second door rusted free under the onslaught, catching X by surprise, but not, for some reason, Axl/Zero. They/he switched their/his hold, grabbing onto X's shoulders and steadying him. They/he leaned X forward so that his helmeted temple came to rest on their/his own. It helped somehow, they/he realized; lessening the distance eased the flow of emotions, memories, and thoughts.

(_X? Zero, Axl? Yes. Talk about a rush. You guys alright? We're fine, all of us. Sorry about acting as trigger. It's alright, Zero. No apology needed. What's happening? No idea, but it feels... Nice. Yeah, nice. Comforting. This is what it -- we -- have been trying to do from the very beginning. You mean the link? This, whatever this is, has been its goal? From the start. Three minds together fight better than one. Three standing together against one always has better odds. A sword and shield to keep us, all of us, safe. Safe? From what? I'm not... Not a whole lot out there that could take us. Speak for yourself. Safe from everything. It's getting a little... Thinking individually is getting harder... I'm sorry I pulled you two into this. Eh, don't be, kid. This isn't your fault, Axl. But still, it's my mind that... Yeah, so? We accept you for who you are. ...You… really do? We -- really -- do..._)

Three consciousnesses echoed as one unbroken whole, three voices echoing aloud and within the realm of the mind.

"_My charges..._"

Before one consciousness split, returning to three, and diving them all in to darkness.

* * *

(Sometime Later)

Systems flashed behind closed eyes, sounding off in their normal trill of post-recharge warm-ups. X winced, his hand automatically coming up to blot out the painful light at its source. He paused a moment, his hand gently brushing over his eyes, before releasing a huff of annoyance.

(_Great. Pretty sparkling lights. _ Last_ thing I need with a headache._)

Zero's voice snorted, sounding odd and yet _right_ echoing within his mind. (_You think you got a nasty headache, X? Mine talks. Sounds a lot like you, too._)

X blinked, for a moment, lost in a wave of shock. Opening his eyes, he found Zero had just come to the same sudden conclusion as he had, and was looking at him with an otherwise unreadable expression.

(_...Zero...?_) X nudged his thoughts towards 'where' he guessed Zero's mind might link with his own. Zero's eyes widened a fraction in awed shock.

(_...X...?_)

If he hadn't already been sitting down, X would have fallen. Emotions rumbled through his mind, feelings of _awe_, _wonder_, _excitement_, and more than just a pinch of _fear_, and not all of them were his own. He swallowed a parched throat.

(_Is this... Is this what Axl was afraid of...? What he had to deal with before...?_)

Zero slowly nodded, his eyes sliding down to look at his own hand. (_I... think so..._) His head snapped upwards, realization hitting him the same time it hit X.

"Axl!"

Axl's answer came in the form of a mental grunt, (_Come off it guys... Five more minutes, please...?_)

X exchanged a look with Zero, who in turn shrugged, a slight smile on his lips.

X couldn't help it. Despite the oddity of this strange, new situation, he fell over laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

Ha! And you thought Chapter 3 wouldn't be out for a while!

Just wait till after I get passed Chapter 11. Then, I'll be back to writing things out from scratch... _twitch, twitch_.

Onwards!

Warning: Tests have hit. Updates will be slow. Plot Bunny has run for the hills. Will attempt to find once more. That is all.

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

* * *

_Remixed Chapter 3_

* * *

"This," a manila folder held together by four of five different sized rubber bands hit the desk in emphasis, "is Colonel Jack O'Neill's medical record. I suggest you skim the highlights."

Honorary Dr. Rock Xavier Light, more commonly known as X, cocked a brown eyebrow at the packet. He looked up at his new boss, one Dr. Janet Fraiser, and smiled warmly at the worn woman.

"I see why you're in desperate need of help, Dr. Fraiser." X gently stood up from the desk, taking with him the manila packet.

Janet cocked her own eyebrow in his direction, "You believe the fact that's all Jack's?"

"Yes, ma'am." X smiled. "You see, given the extreme nature of Axl's ...eh... coerced extracurricular activities back during high school... Well, to be blunt... I've got an idea of how, exactly, someone might get a folder this size over the course of a month."

Janet held her jaw in. She hadn't told him that was Jack's one month folder. All she had said was, "This is it" and he'd taken it as if it were nothing.

"Well... I see..." She fought back her fourth yawn this hour. X pushed her out of the ward.

"Go to bed, doctor." Janet was about to protest when X laid a finger over her lips. "I'll be fine. Trust me."

(_Famous last words, X._)

(_They're only the last words if you're saying them, Zero. Now, if you'll excuse me,_) X took a seat in the spare ME's chair, carefully trying not to break the frail rubber bands of the manila folder. (_I have a lot of Unit Zero Type reading to get through._)

Both Zero and X could feel Axl trying to stop from laughing out loud.

It had been a difficult three weeks for all of them. First there had been X's medical on-paper examination, and while he may not have cheated, feeling Zero and Axl supporting him through a link all three of them were still trying to adjust to had meant the difference between passing and failure. Axl's linguistics test had hit them all by surprise, especially when he panicked about having a large chunk of the 'exam' being written translations.

Suffice to say, X and Zero had gotten first-hand knowledge of what 'covering for little slips' meant. If word ever got back to Hunter HQ about X falling out of his seat during lunch-rush-hour, he _would_ maim whoever was responsible. Right after reviving from a mortified faint, of course.

(_Che. 'Least you weren't in the middle of a firing range..._)

X snickered. True, he _hadn't_ been the one who almost shot his own foot off. More than just mangled limbs would be at stake if word of _that_ particular fiasco reached home.

Jittery emotions of _apology_ ghosted along the back of X's mind, whispering (_I'm sorry I'm sorry didn't mean to._)

(_It's alright, Axl. All of us are still trying to get things organized._)

Turning the page in Colonel O'Neill's medical report, X paused.

Three minds reeled as one, (_Eeww!_)

* * *

Whoever had the running bet going about how long it would take the Diner Trio to be smack-dab in the middle of an SG-1 screw-up had just won himself a mint. Especially since the odds of someone picking _One Mission_ were astronomical.

Too bad the bookie hadn't told Fate that.

Jack was just as glad he was anyone _but_ Janet at the moment, regardless of the aching staff wound currently reciting "Pain in A Major" on his back. If he remembered right, Janet had sworn to do something nasty to his manhood if he ever showed up again with another staff-inflicted wound...

Well, at least this time, no one from SG-3 had picked up a snaky hitchhiker. That blonde they'd put in SG-6 hadn't been that bad, either, regardless of his firing range mishap.

His folder falling with a hard slam down against the table next to him snapped him back to reality. He turned, finding the new medic glaring at him with brilliant green eyes covered in hidden frost.

"Given your record, Colonel, I think you'd have a better chance dodging Jaffa staff blasts if you painted a neon red bull's eye in the middle of your back and hung a sign around your neck saying 'Free Target Practice Here.'"

The first word out of Jack's mouth was priceless. "Wha...?"

"You heard me." The new medic made a mark on Jack's chart. "No visitors until you're discharged from my service, unless it's the General who comes knocking. And _only_ the General. The rest of your team is being stripped of visiting privileges. Even the resident Jaffa."

Even with O'Neill's concentration locked on a deadly-looking hypodermic, _that_ last comment brought Jack up short.

"_What_?"

"You heard me, Colonel O'Neill."

"Where's Janet? I want a second opinion!"

"Then you're going to have to wait another," he looked down at his watch after setting a now empty needle aside, "five hours."

"_Five hours?_" O'Neill looked about ready to jump out of bed and pummel the newbie, and he would have, too, had it not been for the IV currently piercing his arm.

"Yes, sir. By then, she'll have had a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. But don't worry. I'll be sure to have someone deliver a full report on exactly how this...little mishap occurred."

He wanted to kill him. He really, really wanted to kill him. And had it not been for the fact his instincts were screaming if he dared to even try and go against him he'd be worse off than being in the hands of a System Lord, he would have already been planning the newbie's death.

Although... Just because he couldn't plan Blue Boy's death did _not_ mean he was banned from planning some good old-fashioned revenge.

* * *

_SGC; Briefing / Debriefing Room C_

* * *

Zackary "Zero" Omega Wily sat with his feet propped up on the meeting room table, leaning as far back in the chair as he could. Somehow, through some little trick of the trade he was never going to reveal to anyone save his two cohorts, he had managed to get the military inspectors to okay his long hair while in uniform. Rumor was he used his status as a civilian working in the military as a trump card in the negotiations.

"Zero." A single bored baby blue eye opened, looking in the general direction of his superior officer. "Get your red-tinted combat boots off the damn bloody table. Now."

That was something Zero liked about his commander. The man was an old combat vet, recently returned from minor border skirmish action in Korea who, technically, should have been retired a long, long time ago. When everything was set and done, it meant that you listened to the grey haired elder with beady, sand color eyes. Or else.

Two red-tinted combat boots fell to the floor, consequentially dragging their owner to his full upright position. Two of the younger airmen fought down snickers. Zero sent a glare in their direction, only gaining more snickers of laughter.

"Attention!"

The three Air Force members stood straight up at attention in a heart beat. Zero, on the other hand, stood up slowly, like a snake reluctantly uncurling from his sun-warmed stone. A young man walked in next, wearing a Lt. Commander's insignia on his shoulder.

"At ease."

Zero literally fell back down into his chair, relaxing in an instant, while it took the others a few more moments to work themselves back into their chairs. The debriefing officer sent him a sidelong glance, which he dutifully ignored.

"All right, let's hear it."

"Sir." Zero's commander stood, file folder in hand, "The mission was ambushed, sir."

"So I've been told by both SG-3 and SG-1. I want to hear your take on the situation."

"It's in the briefing, sir."

"Yes, but I want to hear it in words."

"We took a left instead of a right and ran straight into a group of training Jaffa. All three teams screwed up. Happy now?" Zero growled out. A glare from two different sources met his statement.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I was talking to you, _civilian_." There was absolutely no physical reaction from blond warrior in response to the acid tone thrown his way.

"Ah, so you're going to pull the old 'We can work with civilians fine. Not,' bull crap, hum?" Zero reached up, grabbing a hold of one of the few loose strands of hair falling over his eyes. He played with it slightly, running it between his fingers like a bored cat with a feather toy.

The interrogator looked ready to start fuming. "Fine then, Mr. Wily. What was your _opinion_ of today's near disaster?"

"Hmm," there was an almost steely tone in Zero's voice now, "puddle jumping is an interesting experience." Zero stood, silencing the interrogator before he could interrupt.

"I mean, you go through something which looks exactly like an inverted puddle of water, only to have your molecules separated into tiny little bits and pieces, and for the split seconds it takes you to get there, you feel like you're on top of the world. Then, you have dirt under your feet – or in the case of a couple of rookies, dirt in your mouth – and you start wondering 'Is this really off-world? Or is this just some kind of elaborate hoax meant to spend taxpayer money on developing different weapons of mass destruction?' And don't you even _think_ of telling me the things R&D cooks up aren't capable of leveling at least one major city.

"Then you turn the corner, expecting more of this sunlit paradise, only to see a streak of gold flash past you, and a crimson jet of fluid as the person you just met, who just went though the same experience as you, who is just as shocked about little grey men as you are, as the man you call your comrade falls to his knees, his leg blown straight out from under him. Not a sound dares to echo for a moment. Just a single, solitary moment... Then all hell breaks lose and the only things you can think of are KBK. Or, simply put, Kill or Be Killed. And you start praying your training was good enough so that you can avoid a case of Friendly Fire the first day you're on the job."

By the time Zero had ended, he had casually walked around the large briefing room table. The interrogator of the hour swallowed dryly, unable to break eye contact with the blond haired cobra slinking his way. He notably flinched when Zero folded back down into his seat, looking as casual as ever.

"But, then again, that's only the opinion of a _civilian_. A _civilian_ whose commanding officer was, about five minutes ago, being badgered by someone who _thinks_ they can just walk in and try to pin the blame on the newbie unit because they're new."

"At least we've got better luck than SG-1," one of the privates muttered under his breath.

"Damn straight!" Zero laughed, leaning back, obviously tempted to kick his feet back up onto the table.

"V-Very well..." the interrogator gathered up the papers before him. "That is all... Dismissed!"

There were a few moments of uninterrupted silence in which the interrogator ran as fast as he could without looking like he was trying to run from the room. Those few moments broke when the old Korean Vet released a tense breath out into the world.

"Zero, I don't know whether to thank you or kill you."

"You could try both?" the second airman suggested with a shrug.

"Indeed I could," he snickered slightly. "Well then... let's go see how Makepeace's men are doing, shall we?"

Smirking, Zero answered, "With pleasure, sir."

Halfway towards SGC Infirmary, Zero felt Axl mentally nudge him in concern laced with apology. (_I slipped again._)

Zero slipped away from the rest of his group, pointing apologetically towards the small sign reading "Men's Room" as he ducked inside. Once he was sure no one was present, he sighed, opting to sit on a handy counter. There was some sort of trick to this whole mental link thing, and until he got it, it would be safer to take such 'calls' with as few witnesses as possible.

(_Sorry about that._) Zero apologized, pushing a wave of _comfort_ towards what he thought was Axl's link.

(_You weren't the one who slipped. I did. I... kinda nudged how I felt about Dallas being hit towards you and..._) Zero could almost see Axl duck his head in embarrassment. (_Sorry._)

(_Don't be. I wanted to chew that idiot out, anyway._)

(_And if it's any consolation, Dallas is expected to make a full recovery, leg and all._) He could just barely feel X nuzzle feelings of _comfort_ and _warmth_ against Axl's exhausted mind.

(_Fight took a lot more out of you than it should, kid._) Zero nudged his own feelings of _comfort, concern_ against Axl's mind, measuring his reaction to them.

(_Got too quiet without X there..._) Axl murmured sleepily.

Zero hopped back down from his countertop spot, making his way back towards the infirmary.

(_You stay awake till I get there, 'kay, kid? I don't think X's got a spare cot for yah._)

(_Not for those who weren't injured, no._) X agreed. He paused for a moment as if looking over his shoulder, and whistled, (_Damn._)

(_Um...?_) Axl sleepily pushed his confusion forward, not even bothering to 'aim' for its intended recipient.

(_Dr. Fraiser's back. And..._) X's wince reverberated back towards Zero and Axl.

(_Not happy equal understatement?_)

(_Something like that, yeah..._) There was a pause before, (_Axl, for your own safety,_ stay awake_. Even with a full eight hours of sleep, she's on a rampage_.)

Despite the warning, Zero felt Axl's mind slip towards dreams, (_I'm tryin'..._)

Fortunately for all involved, Zero managed to make it just as Axl's eyes slowly closed.

"Oi! Kid! This _ain't_ nap time!"

Axl snapped his head back up, turning it towards the waiting room entrance. Zero was standing there, his hands stuffed deep down within the bowels of his pockets, his hair streaming loose, signaling the fact he was off duty. Or at least, in his mind he was off duty.

Taking a quick survey of the waiting room led Zero to sigh. Four other men were sprawled across the various chairs littering the room, two of which were still just barely old enough not to be called boys. He greeted what appeared to be the leader of SG-3 with a simple nod.

Inclining his head towards Axl, Zero answered Colonel Makepeace's unasked question, "Known him since he was in third grade. Used to baby-sit him for Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, too."

Alex "Axl" Wallace grunted something under his breath, his hand flickering in Zero's direction with a universal one-fingered salute. Undaunted, Zero simply cooed, "Aw, ain't he cute."

Makepeace snorted back what sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"He's about to be flash-fried by Janet the Great, Angry, and Still Sleep-Deprived if he doesn't get his unwounded aft out of here fast."

Everyone who was still close to conscious turned towards the main infirmary door. Lab coat looking like something a cat had decided to play scratching post with, his hair rumpled, and clothing disheveled in a similar fashion to an ER doctor who had been put on twenty-four hour call, X was a sight to behold. Currently, he was leaning against the doorframe for support.

"Bad day?" Commander Laurence volunteered with a small chuckle.

"She just got through with O'Neill," X explained, almost moaning. "How long has she been like this?"

"Too long," Makepeace sighed. "I hope for all our sakes you're as good an assistant medic as your test results showed. We need the help. _She_," he nodded his head towards the infirmary door, "needs some sanity put back in her life."

Sharing a knowing smirk with Zero, X smiled. "Sanity? Sorry, ran out of that when I met those two nutcases."

"Oi!" Zero countered, Axl adding in a timely grunt.

"Regardless, I'll see what I can do. Now," X's smile fell. Standing straight, he directed a professional glare towards the waiting room occupants. "If none of you are really injured, then _get your asses out of Dr. Fraiser's waiting room!_"

No fools, they got, with Zero all but draping Axl's sleeping form over him as they bolted.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, I've been gone for a while, huh? Well don't expect too much after this one. The old Chapter 5 is being replaced with a different Chapter 5 that I'm still working the bugs out of. That, and I'm back in school, which means reading, reading, and more reading.

Anyway, enough of my yabbering. Here's Chapter 4!

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

_Remixed Chapter 4_

* * *

There was something unusual going on in the mess hall of SGC. Alright, it was _more_ unusual than an Airman's half-finished project exploding in their face or the kitchen staff hauling out an unwanted guest. Whatever this more-than-usual-unusual even was, it had something to do with a happier then normal Colonel O'Neill who had recently been released from a now less than happy medical assistant.

Something blue seemed to be floating behind Jack. The former Black Ops operative turned, looking up to find a disgruntled brown haired medic standing behind him. Blue food dye could be seen cascading down what was once a pure white lab coat. Droplets of the dye fell down against the ground, creating an almost inaudible splash on the unforgiving concrete floor.

"Colonel O'Neill,"

"Ah, our new assistant medic!" Jack looked the boy up and down. "I see you're adjusting to the SGC quite well."

Rock's tone was not that of anger, nor was it that of annoyance. In fact, it was quite the opposite of any of those emotions. It was...happy?

"Yes, sir, I am. By the way, thank you for the assist with dyeing my lab coat. It saved me the extra cash of going out and buying a new blue one. Of course, I really would have liked it if you had finished the job, or at least let it dry while it was laying down. That way, the pattern would have set in better." He sighed, a tiered yet happy sigh. "Oh well. I'll just have to finish dyeing it myself later tonight. I think Zero said he was doing a load of reds..."

Jack watched, blinking, as young Rock walked off muttering about blond swordsmen and crazy obsessions.

"It appears that your "prank" did not have the intended effect, O'Neill." Teal'c commented dryly.

"Sure looks that way, big guy." Jack sighed, returning to his waffles. Ever since the Ancient repeating time warp thingy incident, he had strived to avoid eating anything that remotely resembled Fruit Loops.

"Perhaps it would have been wiser to select a color which was not included in over fifty percent of his wardrobe."

"Like pink?"

"Jack," Daniel piped up, pulling his steaming glasses off his face for the fifth time that morning, "Dr. Light was only doing his job."

"Well he didn't have to be so damn picky about who visited me."

"Maybe he did it as punishment, for being hit so often. Speaking of which, when are you going to retake Ducking Bullets 101?"

"About the same time you stop leaning over your steaming hot oatmeal and fogging up your glasses."

Daniel stopped. He pulled back away from his oatmeal, heaping spoonful still in hand, and gave Jack his best glare.

Sam quickly intervened, "He is right though, sir."

"Which one, Carter? The doctor with bad attitude or the doctor with bad allergies?"

And before Samantha could answer, the familiar, annoying alarm followed by the haunted phrase, "Unauthorized Off-World Activation" echoed through their ears.

"Now what?"

Jack was rather sorry he asked.

* * *

(_He pranked you._)

(_Yes, Axl, he pranked me._)

(_He _pranked_ you._)

X took a deep, steadying breath as he passed an Airman, trying not to roll his eyes. (_Yes, Zero, we've established the fact that Colonel O'Neill decided to prank me. You would have done the same thing to Lifesaver if he had dumped you in bed sans visitor privileges for a week. Well... You would have tried to, at least._) Having multiple identical bodies put a bit of a hamper on hitting the right target.

Two minds purred in unnerving synchronous, (_This means war._)

(_Just don't kill him, okay?_)

Alarms blared no sooner than a second later.

(_I didn't do it!_)

(_Of course you didn't do it. O'Neill's not in...the... Gateroom..._)

Biting back a curse which would have had every marine within hearing distance on him in a heartbeat, X double-timed it to his infirmary post. First thing any new recruit learned fast was that any time an Unauthorized Off-World Traveler came in, casualties were bound to be right behind them.

* * *

It was SG-3's turn to be on Unauthorized 'Gate response duty, plus the three uninjured members of SG-6, as both teams still had men on the casualty lists recovering in Dr. Fraiser's 'tender' care. Seeing yet another team come hobbling in through the 'Gate with enough damage to pull them off active duty for a good half year made something in the back of Axl's mind flicker in frustration.

(_That would be me, kid._) Zero's voice wafted through his mind, a warm summer's breeze serving as the herald to an ever growing crimson storm.

(_You really don't like to see people get hurt...do you?_)

(_I don't like to see anybody get hurt, kid, especially if they don't have to._) There was a pause before he added, (_Well... unless it's Sigma. Him, I don't mind seeing get hurt. Or get dead. Although I wish he would _stay_ dead..._)

Two people not in SG uniforms, a balding grey haired male dressed in various desert hues and a blond female dressed in what had to be the gaudiest assortment of leather garments anyone, including Axl and Zero, had ever seen, came walking down the 'Gate ramp. It was the female who walked in as if she _owned_ them. As if she, in her almightiness, was so high above them that they would not _dare_ to harm her, or fear her wrath.

All the more reason to pull the trigger.

"Hold your fire!"

Or... not.

(_You're pouting, Axl._)

(_I am not!_)

Colonel O'Neill came waltzing into the 'Gate Room, a very false smile on his lips. In a tone of voice which seemed to drip sarcastic humor, he smiled, "Jacob...Freya... How nice for you two to show up. Hope our boys weren't too much trouble to baby-sit."

"On the contrary, Colonel, if it were not for them, we would not be alive," the female, apparently Freya, smiled innocently.

"What a shame..." Jack whispered just under his breath. "Well, I'm sure you need to get back to whatever little underground operation you have set up somewhere in this lovely little galaxy of ours, so..."

"Actually, Jack, we need to talk," the bald man, obviously Jacob, held a firm command hidden beneath his otherwise neutral tone.

Jack released a sigh of anguish, muttering something obscene about the universe in general.

"All right, fine. Everybody stand down. SG-3, get these boys to med bay."

"Yes, sir!"

(_X, you have a nasty couple of cases heading your way._)

(_Dr. Frasier already has me working on prepping for everything from arrow heads to staff blasts._)

(_Well you can forget the arrow heads. Majority of cases seem to have injuries caused by Zats and..._) Axl paused, looking at one particularly nasty wound. Old memories spun through his mind as if they were fruits jammed into a blender.

(_Axl, breath kid!_) Zero snapped him back to reality.

X's reaction to the burn in question was similar to Axl's. All he could do was stare at the charred flesh on his patient's side, watching with wide eyes as pure black skin mixed with the greens of army fatigues continued to bubble slightly, looking almost exactly like melted plastic, even though the damage had occurred what looked like hours ago. Memories tried to surface in X's mind as well. The Blue Hunter quickly locked them away, deep down in the part of his mind he never, ever, wanted to see again.

"Mark 13 Megabuster, close range, fired before it could fully charge... He's still trying to counteract to the loss of air molecules... Must have been pulled directly from the skin before it opened fire... Ugh. Why'd the buster have to draw cooling power from oxygen instead of something else...?" X muttered just under his breath.

And the small part of his mind which was still the young child of science thrown into the heat of a war he never wanted to be a part of was currently running panicked laps.

(_Someone here has Megabuster tech... Reploid tech!_)

A familiar feral grin echoed across X's mind, slowly being followed by the familiar gun-ho attitude of an inexperienced, daring youth.

(_But we've got better. And we know how to counteract it._)

X took a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes and letting the world melt away.

Green amber eyes as hard and unforgiving as diamonds snapped open. There was no sign of the boy with a playful purr in his voice and a constant smile on his lips. Now there was only the seasoned veteran of Eight Wars which had claimed far too many lives. There was only the man who had used his father's gifts to save the world.

Janet never knew what hit her medical ward.

"Axl, you remember the test you helped me study for back when I took that community college medical refresher course?" X demanded. The young orange haired Hunter in disguise smirked.

"You mean the one on distributing IVs based on patient size and blood type? Twelve hours of my life, wasted on a carrier field I'm never gonna touch, when I could have been out practicing my Shakespeare."

"IV fluids in bodyweights for everyone, oxygen masks set at ten percent pure O2 release for those patients suffering from similar scorch marks."

"Yes, sir!"

Instead of having one capable assistant, Janet had two. Within the next half hour, as two of the four members of the banged up SG unit started slipping towards critical condition, she had a third assistant moving with the same haste as the first two.

Blond hair flickered in her peripheral vision.

"X said you'd want this," Zackary tossed her a fresh IV pack. Janet blinked, looking between red-wearing off-duty civilian and clear life saving fluid. "Who do you think X got to play doctor with during cram sessions? Sure as hell wasn't the school cadaver."

Janet blinked once more before snapping back to reality.

"I need three Type B positive transfusion packs hooked up to Dainties, Terrace, and Smith. Type O for Constantine."

"Positive or negative?"

"Neither,"

"FAB, boss,"

Janet paused again. She smiled lightly to herself, shaking her head in disbelieve even as she slid the IV needle home.

"I can't believe people still watch The Thunderbirds..."

* * *

Jack leaned back in his chair. The conference room had remained dead quiet since Jacob Carter, Samantha's loveable human father with annoying but tolerable Tok'ra hitchhiker Selmac, and his less than lovable assistant Freya and Anise (who, in a very weird way, counted as both one person and two people at the same time), had finished their explanation of how they had come across SG-4 and who, or to be more exact, what, was trying to kill them...

Their explanation had finished ten minutes ago.

"Super soldiers," Jack finally managed to spit out. "I thought we got rid of those things?"

"Apparently, we only blew up a sub factory. Turns out there's at least one more major factory out there, with at least four or five minor ones in the works if not already completed and processing." Former General Carter released a long, exhausted sigh.

"Furthermore, it appears as if Anubis has upgraded the Super soldier's armor and weapons. I believe one of our escorts was hit close range with the newly modified weaponry?" Anise - Jack could tell it was Anise and not Freya because the woman had yet to attempt flirting with him – hinted ever so unsubtly.

"Dr. Fraiser will have a report ready for you as soon as possible," Hammond nodded.

Jack felt like cheering at the snake's attempt at hiding her pout.

"Perhaps she would like assistance? Last I recall, a suitable assistant had yet to be found."

"A suitable assistant has already been found, Anise, though I'll thank you for your concern over our Chief Medical Officer's well being." _Not._

"General, please. This is a new energy weapon with unknown properties. There is no possible way your primitive medicine would be able to deal with the repercussions of an attack. Especially one made at point blank range."

Alarm bells were going off like firecrackers on the Fourth of July in the back of Jack's head. Anise was trying _way_ harder than usual to take a peak at somebody's chard flesh. Something about this new weapon was registering as a _could be a great toy_ kind of idea somewhere in her snake-hollowed head.

"Sorry to interrupt you, sir," Rock pushed his head in through a crack in the doorway, "but Dr. Fraiser was pretty insistent I get this report to you right away."

(_Remember those stories Siler told us our first week here?_)

(_Which ones? The guy liked to talk more than Axl._)

(_Hey!_)

(_The one about that Tok'ra mad scientist who set SG-1 up on a suicide run_.) Annoyed aggravation thrummed in answer. (_Well, I think I just ran into her. She's got no tact whatsoever._)

(_Fun. I'll start sharpening my _katana.)

"Ah, Dr. Light, please, come in." Hammond stood, ushering the boy inside. The young brown haired medic walked in, file folder in hand. "How are the boys in medical?"

"Stable, sir," Rock smiled politely. "Dr. Fraiser and I found some interesting burn marks on one of the soldiers. There's a preliminary analysis on the wound, including tissue samples and chemical makeup, on page two."

"Preliminary diagnosis of cause?" Anise chimed in. Rock didn't miss a beat.

"Energy attack of some kind. Several of the more...interesting...samples are still being run through the testing equipment. Dr. Fraiser and I have already closed up the wound as best we could and begun preliminary antibiotic baths."

"Why? We made need more samples!"

There was a moment when pure nothingness flashed through X's gaze. A glare cold enough to freeze a sun was aimed levelly in Anise's direction. The Tok'ra gulped, slowly sinking back into her seat.

"Nothing. And I mean. _Nothing_," even Jacob winced at the low growl added to the word, "is worth a man's life. I _highly_ suggest you remember that."

Anise gulped in answer.

Another moment passed, and everything was back to normal.

"I'll be returning to the infirmary now, sir. Once the remainder of the data is finished processing, I will have it forwarded to both you and Major Carter at once." And with an authentic Japanese formal bow, X did a near perfect military about face, and left.

The room seemed to be able to breathe again as soon as the last end of his lab coat had floated out the doorway.

_That_, Jack thought grimly, _is one scary kid._

While in the hallway, X shook.

(_Oh man. Forget the _katana_, for a minute there, I..._)

An orange-haired shadow detached itself from a nearby wall, resting a hand over X's shaking, clenched fist. Slowly, almost painfully, X allowed the file folder to slip into Axl's waiting grip.

"It's alright, X. 'M sorry. 'Bout everything."

Gently tucking Axl's head under his chin, X sighed. "It's okay, Axl. It's not your fault."

"Feels like it, though. I'm the one who started pouting about not having a reason to shoot her and everything, and I let that bleed over to you, and..."

(_Axl?_) Zero waited a moment to be sure he had the child's attention.(_Shut up._)

X smiled lightly even as Axl's pout grew exponentially. Walking down the hallway, he laughed, "Zero's right. You shouldn't beat yourself up about this."

Safely tucked inside the elevator, Axl opened his mouth, "But...!" only to have X gently close it again.

"No buts." Once he was sure Axl was not about to rattle off how everything was his fault once again, X removed his hand, his smile turning grim. "Now, come on. I do _not_ want to tell Dr. Fraiser one of our visiting Tok'ra is Ansie without serious backup."

* * *

Three hours and one yelling spree comprised of more curse words than even Zero knew deposited X in the middle of the graveyard shift.

Or at least, it attempted to drop him there. Staying awake was proving to be something of a problem for him, never mind the fact it was around four in the morning.

(_X... You need some rest, too._)

(_Dr. Fraiser isn't back yet. I can't just leave these people alone... 'Round the clock surveillance _means_ around the clock surveillance..._)

(_I'll watch over them, X. Please... go to bed. For me?_) Orange hair over big, green, adorable eyes and a wiggling lower lip made X use what little energy he had left in him to laugh.

(_All right...All right, I'm going. See? I'm already out the door..._)

(_And collapsing right into my arms. Oh yeah, you're just peachy, X._) Zero teased. The Red Hunter hoisted his exhausted blue friend over his back, carrying him piggy-back style down the hallway.

(_Just shut up already,_)

(_You know, you get really snappish when you haven't had enough sleep._)

(_Zero?_)

(_Hum?_)

(_Don't make me wake up and kill you._)

Axl smirked slightly to himself. His eyes slowly fell on the now sold-colored newly dyed blue lab coat. X may not have been bothered by fact he had been forced to walk around half the day wearing a lab coat which said "Kick Me" in blue food dye, but he wasn't X. An attack had been made on his friend. If there was one thing he had learned from Zero, it was to never leave a challenge unanswered.

Paper in one hand, pencil in the other, Axl got to work.

_Next Chapter: Intermission 1: Barbeques, Arcades, Hunting, and the NID. Joy.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Holy crud, I live! Please, now, everyone, I know it's taken me over a year to get this out, but don't give up hope just quite yet. I'm still working on Remixed in-between such exciting real life adventures as going through college panic (Japanese final ate me!) and actually having gone _to_ Japan. So yes, I'm behind the eight-ball on this, I know. But sooner or later, likely later, _SSRA:Remixed_ will be finished!

Everyone remembers the giant plot hole which showed up previously in chapter six, right? If not, I'd say go look it up, but given the fact I deleted the old Shooting Stars in order to comply with the current rules... Yeah. Suffice to say, it wasn't pretty, and it had to do with the NID in all their lovely glory. Or lack thereof.

So _now_, with the help of a conveniently placed Intermission Chapter in which the plot is only mildly furthered, that (insert extreme explicative here) plot hole will _DIE!_

(As an aside, I've got through chapter thirteen written. At which point my muse checked out and has yet to come back... I'll be putting out the chapters I have written about once per week.)

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

_Remixed Chapter 5: Intermission I_: Barbeques, Videogames, and Hunting

* * *

A lot of things had happened over the past week. There had been placating Anise with a batch of data and samples regarding the new Goa'uld weapon – and then all but kicking her back through the 'Gate. Jacob and Selmac had "volunteered" to stay behind on Earth to "continue assessing the situation regarding Anubis's troops". Even with their well-worded excuse, it took a promise from Samantha to send her father back with her assessment of what exactly Anubis's new weapons were to placate the Council into letting Jacob stay.

In other news, there was an aborted prank on Colonel O'Neill involving a rubber Goa'uld and a liberal application of pink hair dye which had left Siler's sanity as a casualty. Add in Dr. Fraiser's daughter dropping by for a few hours at the same time Axl was teasing X about his affinity for blue right up until they had noticed Cassandra giving Axl "The Eyes", and things were proceeding on per-normal.

And... Oh yes. An invitation to attend Colonel O'Neill's bi-monthly barbeque delivered via Dr. Fraiser with a RSVP notice alerting X to the fact Zero and Axl were _persona-non-gratae_ so far as Colonel O'Neill was concerned.

"He dyed your lab coat so that it read 'Kick Me' and he _wasn't_ expecting retaliation?" Zero grumbled mournfully, his vibrant bowl of Fruit Loops a stark contrast to his gloomy mood.

"I don't think it was your counterattack, Zero. Just the fact you used pink hair dye." At Zero's 'so what?' expression, X tagged on, "_Permanent_ pink dye. Not even Signas would expect something _that_ low, and he's been dodging you for a hell of a lot longer than Colonel O'Neill."

Zero swept the argument away with a nonchalant wave of his spoon.

"Aw, don't worry, Zero! You can always get free beer at General Hammond's Christmas Party!"

Axl managed to duck just in time to dodge an airborne biscuit.

"Shut it, kid. Besides, it was _your_ fault it went wrong."

"Was not! How as I supposed to know O'Neill would have Siler open it first?" Axl countered, pouting.

"Maybe because you hid your trap in a fuse box...?" X sighed, using his hand as a platform for his head. "Honestly, you two. I said _no killing_."

"It didn't!"

X blew a loose tuff of hair out of his eyes. "Tell that to Siler's ego."

"Oh, that's not dead, either. It's just a little mangled at the moment." Axl smiled in that truly naïve air of innocence only he could manage to pull of. Both Zero and X skewered him with a single terrifying glare. The poor boy ducked a few inches, vainly attempting to avoid incineration by death glare.

Two hands came down on Axl's shoulders, landing with dull thumps of flesh against cotton. Looking up, the trio found Colonel Makepeace and another member of SG-3 smiling, or maybe smirking, down at Axl.

"Hiyah, Wily, Dr. Light. Yah mind if we barrow Wallace here for an undisclosed amount of time?" Colonel Makepeace questioned innocently. Without waiting for an answer, the two SG-3 members had slipped their holds so that they were lifting Axl out of his seat by his armpits.

"Great, thanks!" the second SG-3 member spoke, smiling.

(_Um... Help?_) Axl mentally gulped, his eyes pleading. Zero and X exchanged similar smirks, sending Axl's hope of rescue plummeting to the basement.

X smiled, watching SG-3's commanding officer plus one drag Axl out the mess hall door. Turning towards his former mentor, X laughed, "Aren't you a little... worried, maybe?"

"What, about Axl?" At X's nod, Zero laughed, "Hell, so long as they bring him back in one piece, I'm happy."

Mentally, Axl moaned, sending both Hunters into snickering giggles.

It was only when the trio were securely tucked inside an elevator that Axl shook himself free of his teammates' grips. Checking their destination, he shot a look at his superior officer.

"Med ward?" Axl blinked, tilting his head to one side in confusion.

Colonel Makepeace smirked, nodding his head in affirmation.

"You see," Major Dan Thompson swung his arm over Axl's shoulder with a conspirator's ease, "The thing everybody's got wrong about us Marines is that we're all sticks in the mud. We in SG-3 make it a habit to break tradition by creating our own, one of which is the newbie introductory course."

Before he could continue, Axl cut in, "I'm not old enough to drink and there is no way I'm pulling the marine version of a frat inauguration."

"We weren't about to ask you to." Studiously ignoring Axl's look, Thompson continued on, "We've also got this thing about having the previous rookie pick the party place of the evening to," he stage coughed into his hand, "inaugurate our newest member."

(_If it smells like a frat party and sounds like a frat party..._) Axl mentally intoned. An echo of Zero attempting not to laugh ghosted back to him.

Colonel Makepeace continued to smirk even as they exited the elevator. "Dallas said he wanted you to pick, however, so it's your call."

(_Then it's... not a frat party?_)

Axl stopped, one hand up palm forward. "Hold it. You mean I get to pick the party place, no matter where or what?"

"So long as it's not illegal or going to get us in trouble," Thompson shrugged. "Yep. It's your call, kid."

"...And the bill'll be split between all four of us, right?"

Exchanging an unsure look, Makepeace and Thompson nodded an affirmative. From the look on Axl's face, both of them were suddenly wishing they hadn't.

* * *

/ToadSkin. Report./

/I'm cold, this place stinks, and why was I the one to get stuck sitting the sewers, anyway?/

The voice on his radio bit back a sigh of agitation. /Put your complaints in to High Command _after_ we survive this mission. Besides, I've picked up three Hunter beacons in your area./

/Do our illustrious employees know about these said beacons?/ Not that it matter to him. Hunters meant fun which meant getting out of these stinking sewers.

/Not yet/ his Unit commander reported. /I don't want them to know about _these_ particular beacons until after confirmation./

/Which is what I get to do, right?/

/Smart boy/ the commander's voice dripped with sarcasm. /Find out what you can, and report back ASAP./

/Roger, will-co, and all that other stuff. ToadSkin, moving out./

* * *

There was one place and one place alone anyone from The Mountain felt they could go for a good night's drink. Where the bartenders were smart enough, and subsidized enough by Uncle Sam, to keep their sometimes rowdy patrons from getting _too_ drunk, not to mention keeping the occasional bar fight under police radar. This particular pub may not have been the greatest of establishments, located as it was a scant two hundred feet from where dirt forest roads gave way to paved civilized civilian pathways, but it was still one of if not the most-stocked pubs in the area. Imported, domestic, beer, wine, coolers -- if it was alcoholic, they had it.

For all the weird twists the Mountain tended to dump on them in the form of paying customers, the barkeep and owner had to admit, this was a new one.

'This' was an admittedly attractive, soft blue eyed, mid-twenty-something, with rich blond hair long enough to make _him_ pass for a _her_. She -- er, sorry, _he_ -- was sitting all alone at the bar, musty red short-waist coat with mimic-trench-coat collar slung over an empty neighboring chair. It had only been when he had taken off his jacket to reveal a deep red tank top to go along with his blue jeans, which were tight enough to leave nothing about his posterior to the imagination, that the fact _he_ was definitely _not_ a she made itself more than apparent.

Not to mention in all his years serving the troops and locals stationed around Cheyenne Mountain the barkeep had never seen a woman top off a forty-percent-proof vodka with three full bottles of _sake_, much less a marine.

The blond sighed when he looked down into the small saucer which held the last remnants of his third _sake_ bottle. With one deft, forlorn swish, he tipped his head back, sending his unbound blond hair streaming out behind him, as the last of the _sake_ vanished down his throat. He sat there motionless for a moment, his eyes closed and head tipped back. Then, without further warning, he slammed the _sake_ saucer down hard enough to hear the _'clank'_ of porcelain against glass-covered wood without actually breaking the cup. One of the many army men who had been watching from afar within the safety of a booth released a long whistle of appreciation.

"Damn, Wily. How the hell'd you drink that much?"

Pushing both _sake_ container and cup away from him and declining an offer for something else, Wily rose, retrieving his jacket as he laughed at some private joke.

"I got a pair of cast-iron kidneys, that's how," Wily answered, chuckling. "Thanks again for the drinks, pal."

"Hell, don't thank me, thank Uncle Sam. He's the one pulling your tab," the barkeep snorted.

"So he is. Forgot about that." The barkeep snorted something under his breath, muttering a single word in counter to Zero's obvious bluff. Zero himself snickered before giving the observing group a sloppy salute on his way towards the bar's exit. "See yah in the morning, boys. Oh, yeah, that's right."

Midway towards the exit, he stopped. Turning to look the group squarely in the eyes, he passed on a single warning: "Dr. Light asked me to pass on a message. _Anyone_ who shows up in medical with a hangover tomorrow doesn't have to worry about Dr. Fraiser. They have to worry about Dr. Light. And let me tell you," he leaned in close to the nearest half-drunk solider, his gaze intensifying into a frozen glare which sent chills down their spines, "X is a _hell_ of a lot worse than Janet."

Straightening, the frozen glare died down into a smile. Without further comment, Wily walked out the door.

The barkeep shuddered. "Weird one, he is. What'd you say his name was again?"

"Wily," one of the airmen from SG-6 muttered. "Zackary Wily. And if you think he's weird now, you should see him with his friends."

"Yeah, especially that carrot-top," another Airman noted. "Hell, I heard carrot-top managed to drag Three over to a _video arcade_." An appropriate whistle of awe echoed through the crowd.

An explosion -- and its accompanying glass-shattering shockwave -- from the parking lot outside cut off any further comments.

* * *

Standing where he was half hidden in a shaded corner of Colonel O'Neill's patio, X could not determine with any certainty how he felt. True, watching Teal'c prep a water balloon launcher while his wingmen in the form of Cassandra and her friend, Becca, kept O'Neill, Carter, and Jackson at bay _was_ entertaining. And yes, watching Dr. Fraiser being dumped into the lake had been enjoyable as well -- there was a reason he was avoiding the lakefront. He even had to admit that Colonel O'Neill knew how to make a decent veggie-burger even if it did need a beer or three to wash the leftover charbroiled ash from his mouth.

And yet, for all that, X still felt empty. A party just wasn't a party without Zero there to make wisecracks or Axl working on a prank. He'd caught himself thinking strategies for water war. With Axl covering his back, Zero easily breaking through Teal'c's admittedly flimsy front lines, and Dr. Fraiser (if they could manage) helping him load up a water balloon cannon of their own. Ah, how sweat victory tasted. Or was that just the beer?

Watching O'Neill playfully take out Cassie while red-head Becca was downed by Carter, X chuckled. If only the others were here to see this...

(_Maverick!_)

_An explosion -- heavy ordinance shells close range -- taking out available cover, shattered glass littering the pavement, combustible petrol igniting in response to the excess heat, turning an otherwise placid bar's parking lot into a war zone straight from home. Humans in danger and the attacker not caring, sending more shells to rain down on top of him could only be one thing -- Maverick! Maverick!!_

"...Zero..."

"You know, if you squeeze that can any harder, you're going to have beer in your lap."

X refused to flinch, instead easing his grip on the can in question. Skilled as he was, Jack O'Neill was not _that_ quiet. Besides -- X still owed him for the lab coat joke, and until the dept was properly repaid, he refused to give the Colonel the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

"Something you want to share with the class, Dr. Light?" O'Neill asked casually. Had it not been for the fact his clothes were soaked through, save for his off pink apron declaring "Kiss the Cook", he would have looked every ounce the spatula-armed teacher he was mimicking.

"I was thinking," X began hesitantly, noticing all eyes were currently on him, "Zero -- that is, Zackary -- said he was going out tonight for a drink."

"He did not leave alone," Teal'c noted.

"No... But that's part of what worries me." At his audience's confused expression, X sighed, "Well, you see, Zero knows when to call it quits, especially if he's going out alone. But when he's with a group, he tends to toss his own safety to the winds... and lots of alcohol and Zero don't make for a pretty picture."

"He was headed for McDuffy's right?"

"Isn't that the place we got banned from, Carter?"

"No, sir," Carter smiled, only to be answered with a light "Thank God," from Jack. "It's really not all that far away from here. Maybe fifteen minutes tops? If you're that worried about him, I could run you over there."

"About thirty minutes round trip?" Taking a quick look at the low burning BBQ grill, Jack shrugged. "What the hell, part two of dinner will be about ready by then. Just be sure to grab a few more beers on your way back."

* * *

/_What are you fucking doing, you trigger-happy imbecile!!_/

/But boss, it's...!/

/I wouldn't care if it was Signus himself! Break off your attack and retreat at once!/

/But... But...!/

/_NOW!!_/

/...Oh, fine./ He cut loose with every last bit of ordinance he had left. /ToadSkin pulling out./

* * *

_You need to look at this. - Agent._

Opening the otherwise dull manila envelope and glancing at the photo within, he felt a sick smile come unbidden to his lips. The image was blurry but its message was clear. Familiar golden hair halo, a red-armored form as it crouched behind a partially intact car, a shaft of green lightening in its fist. The warrior was unmistakable -- and wherever the red one went, the blue and yellow fools wouldn't be far behind.

"So they're finally on the move," he laughed to himself. He picked up the phone. "This is Senator Kinsey. Get me the head of NID."


	6. Chapter 6

This is going to be short. It's more of a filler between what happened last chapter, and what's about to happen in the next. I just didn't see it fitting into chapter five without overloading the piece as a whole, nor fitting into the next chapter without sending that one overboard. –shrugs- Regardless – onwards!

Any and all people and companies involved (save for the bar, maybe, unless that one really does exist) are not mine, I do not own them, and am just barrowing them for the time being.

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 6: Intermission II:_ Pieces

* * *

Being a member of the United States Air Force, Major Samantha Carter had seen and done a lot of things. She had seen aliens come and go, blown up a star, saved whole planets and their accompanying civilizations, to say nothing of what she and her team of friends had done to protect Earth itself. She had seen war and its tolls on humanity both on Earth and on planets light-years away from the little blue marble she called home. Sadly, she was used to seeing the carnage and mayhem which followed in the wake of an active warzone.

She had never figured on seeing such activities in McDuffy's Bar and Pub's parking lot.

To be blunt, it looked like a condensed version World War III had broken loose. Only a few rare vehicles had managed to escape being blown to smithereens, and those few had not escaped the conflict unscathed. The handful of cars would be dealing with major paint damage, heavy dents resulting from shrapnel, windows blown out completely. Shrapnel from those cars which hadn't been so lucky peppered the concrete landscape like discarded confetti. Concrete puddles melted to the consistency of asphalt formed miniature lakes. A few of those puddles had turned into small tar pits, with car bits such as tires, half-melted axels and the like stuck inside. Fires still burned across the lot as a whole. Through some miracle, McDuffy's itself had suffered no more than its front being blasted in. Patrons could still be seen inside slowly coming back to their senses.

Slamming Colonel O'Neill's military SUV into park at chaos' edge, all Sam could do was breathe, "What in the world...?"

"And Zero says I've got the worst luck out of the three of us," X grumbled. Unbuckling his safety belt, X reached for the door, only to be stopped by Samantha grabbing a hold of his arm.

"The Colonel keeps an emergency med kit in the trunk," she explained, popping the SUV's rear hatch to suit action to words.

"Got yah," X replied. "I'll see what I can do about the wounded. Call 911 and Colonel O'Neill. I don't think this was a run-of-the-mill terrorist attack."

Judging from the scattered handful of basket-sized craters not more than a foot from where she'd stopped the car, Carter found herself agreeing with Dr. Light. No terrorist organization she knew of had access to sabot rounds and tomahawk missiles – the only two things Carter could think of off the top of her head which could make such distinct blast patters.

At least the only _Earth_ based things she could think of.

* * *

"Watch it watch it watch it!"

Digitized chopper roars filtered through speaker systems a handful of decimals softer than the real thing. Sounds of glass shattering and bullets flying buzzed past to mix with the din of an overloaded Dave and Busters arcade.

"Reload, sir, quick!" Dallas gleefully yelled at his C.O., one arm waving with exuberant glee while the other clutched for life at one of two crutches.

"Ninja!" Thompson shouted his warning. No sooner had the Major pointed out the digitized enemy, the pixilated ninja was falling down, dead as a deleted bitmap. "Damn. Nice shoot, Wallace."

Digital avatar moving with a grace the video arcade had never seen before, and likely would never see again, Axl maneuvered through the shooter game with minimal problems. The model gun in his hands was half a second too slow for his liking, but all that did for Axl was add a hint of a challenge. But in comparison to Hunter training courses?

Another three enemies went down on Axl's side of the screen before anyone could even blink.

In comparison to Hunter training – this was nigh pathetically easy.

"Game over," the speakers intoned.

"Damn it!" Makepeace growled, throwing his arms in the air.

"Quick, who's got a token?" Dallas demanded at once.

"Don't bother. I've got it," Axl stated simply.

In a quick change of the hand, Axl had switched his hold on the toy gun to one-hand, fished a token from his pocket from with his now free hand, deposited it, and grabbed the secondary toy gun from Makepeace. Stepping aside more in awe than anything, Makepeace stood back and watched as Axl took command of both avatars.

Aside from a professional gaming champion, none of the soldiers had seen anything like Axl's performance before. Enemies fell in pixilated piles left, right, and center. The longest amount of time the boss was alive was during his opening speech.

"Holy. Freaking. Cow." It was the only thing Dallas could think of to say.

Axl laughingly blew imaginary smoke off his dual pistols. Holstering them, he turned to the trio of stunned Marines beside him. "So," he said with a laugh, "Anyone up for Mortal Combat?"

_Maverick!!_

The shout was loud enough Axl staggered back, shocked. At once, Makepeace and Thompson were on either side of him, supporting him.

"Hold that thought, Wallace. Looks to me like you need water more than you need another round of gaming," Makepeace ordered.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Axl agreed, feigning continued weakness. How long had he been blocking out Zero's unintended cry for aid? Was he alright? Had X heard?

Leaving himself to the aid of Makepeace and company, Axl drifted down his connections to Zero and X. (_Guys?_)

(_I'm fine, Axl.)_ Zero replied at once.

_(If by fine you mean, "thank R&D for emergency armor transports which can be cobbled together with spare parts and a few bits of armor-storable tech and that can penetrate miles of solid rock in under a second or else I would be a walking pile of melted skin and wires" then yes, you're fine, Zero.)_ X countered, unimpressed.

(_Oh, _damn_,)_ Axl growled. (_Give me half an hour to ditch these guys and...)_

(_No, Axl. Stay with them._)

(_But...)_

(_Zero's right, Axl. Stay with the SG-3. I'm already here with Major Carter. Colonel O'Neill and the rest of SG-1, along with Janet, are going to be here soon. Me being worried about Zero is understandable, explainable. You giving up a good round of video gaming bliss?)_ X sent back the feeling of shaking his head in a negative. (_No, Axl. Stay there – and try to have some fun.)_

Axl accepted the water Thompson was pressing into his hands with a sigh. (_I get it, I get it. I'll stay with SG-3._)

(_Good_,) Zero agreed. (_Now, X, if you'd be so kind to "discover" my current location already? It's bloody hot over here without my armor's cooling system._)

(_Wait, you already sent your armor back to storage?_) X demanded, incredulous.

(_I've got a half ton of medics out in the field or on their way. What am I supposed to do, say it's a costume I put on in the seconds between leaving the bar and the first explosion?_) Zero shot back.

(_Oh, Zero,_) X sighed.

Swallowing down a slow mouthful of good old fashioned water, Axl couldn't help but laugh. Zero and X were going to be just fine.

"You okay, Wallace?" Dallas's question broke through Axl's internal musings.

Swallowing another mouthful, Axl replied truthfully, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks." Catching the eyes of his fellows, Axl asked conspiratorially, "Say... What do you guys know about setting up pranks?"

The three Marines surrounding him in a loose semi-circle gave one another a speaking glance. Then, slowly, Makepeace leaned forward.

"That depends, Wallace. Who's the target?"

Axl's snicker gained a new dark edge. Getting back at O'Neill was going to be so much fun!

* * *

In a certain office located on capital hill in Washington, D.C., a black nondescript phone rang. The phone's owner reached out a hand, picking up the black receiver.

"This is Senator..." The phone's owner stopped mid answer. Slowly, his voice shifted from political polite to dull furry. "I thought I told you never to call me here!" Silence hung in the room. Gradually, the dull fury shifted to a tone of anger hinted with fear. "Are you certain it was them? ... No! I don't want a repeat of what happened at that bar. You've got someone that looks human, right? Good. I want you to do a bit of undercover work."

Papers shuffled against the top of an old fashioned oak desk.

"Their units are scheduled to leave in three days. Start getting prepped now. I want your man set to go undercover while they're off-world. ... No, I don't care what the risks are! Work with the NID if you have to! I want those three followed! No, not eliminated, not yet. I've still got plans for them."

A squawk of laughter could faintly be heard on the other end.

"I don't _care_ what you think, you Mach Jentra repaint! Do as I command or else!"

Not giving the caller a chance to respond, the phone's owner slammed the receiver back down into its cradle.

Damn those three. First, they had ruined his chance to form a utopia. Now, they had followed him to this planet, and seemed to be gaining allies within his "gracious" host's most volatile enemies. If something wasn't done soon to stop them, to keep them from finding out his master plan, then everything would be in jeopardy.

There was a light tap of knuckles at his door. "Senator Kinsey, sir?" his secretary called, opening the door just a crack. "Are you alright, sir? It sounded like you were rather upset..."

Quickly, he slipped back into Senator persona. "It's nothing, Miss Creston," he assured her.

"Just pesky politics again?" his secretary chuckled, attempting to make a joke.

Smiling behind his façade, the false Senator Kinsey laughed. "Oh yes. Just pesky politics."

* * *

_**Elsewhere, in another time, in another place...**_

A perfect neighborhood located on the fringes of civilization. A small place out near the corner of No and Where approximately thirty thousand acres, it was a sight to behold. Two sides were blocked nearly perfectly from view by thick, ancient forests, while a third side was formed by a sandstone cliff around twenty feet high. A waterfall had apparently taken its home there some millennia ago, a fact that could easily be seen on the cliff itself as a deep grove cut its way through stone. The fourth and final side of the plot was marked by a concrete road connecting the front gate to the local highway. In the center of it all were four buildings, each one a different color and size. The central building was the largest and white in color. The second largest was blue in color, the third was neon pink, and the smallest was a dark windowless grey.

The front gate in and of itself was a sight to behold. Strong rod iron tempered with what almost looked like ruby fragments was twisted over and around ivory bars into elegant patterns depicting some sort of battlefield. Brick columns inlayed with sapphire stones and shaped in the form of a gargoyle and a werewolf stood watch on either side of the gate. Rows of spiked ivory links formed the fence which wrapped around the whole of the property.

A sign made of what looked like cardboard could be seen hanging around the werewolf's neck on what looked like a shoelace.

_Beware of Wolf._

A soft humming gently filled the air, rolling about into a simplistic, almost haunting melody. The low whispers of a harmonica joined the humming, matching it perfectly pitch for pitch. There was a jingling as well of metal hitting metal which seemed to match the tempo of the song near perfectly.

A howl was let loose, a mutilated mix between noise and sound nowhere near the same pitch as the hum or the harmonica. Both the hum and harmonica stopped, giving way to childish laughter.

"Silly Rush; singing's for kids," the person who had been humming laughed, her voice a crystal clear ring.

"Don't mind her, Rush," a second voice joined in, this one sounding more like a boy years away from puberty, "Roll's just jealous, that's all."

"And what would I be jealous about, Rock?" the voice supposedly belonging to Roll huffed in question.

"Oh, look, the paper!" the voice belonging to Rock quickly diverted the girl's attention.

A young boy, looking no older than ten, with rat's nest style black hair bent down, picking up the paper in question. A girl looking to be about the same age as him with flowing blond hair blinked, her blue eyes widening in confusion.

"Didn't we cancel our subscription?" the girl, Roll, blinked.

Her answer was for the young boy to grow pale. His hands began to shake as they tightened into fists. Roll watched, fearful, as the boy's temper rose to a point she had not seen in nearly a hundred years.

"Rock...?"

"Damn him! Damn him straight to hell!" Rock shouted. The green eyed boy tossed the paper back towards Roll, taking off at a run towards the white main housing complex.

"Rock, wait!" Roll cried to no avail. The girl sighed, bending down and retrieving the paper. When her eyes came upon the article that had sent Rock into such a frenzy, she had only one thing to say.

"Oh... Oh, God no..."

She took off at a run, following after the boy, yelling all the way, "Forte! Blues! Dr. Light! Dr. Wily! It's happened! The Fail-Safe's been activated! _Lumine's gotten out!!_"


	7. Chapter 7

Some of you have been waiting a long time for this chapter. Many more are going to want to kill me for it. As usual, I own nothing save the plot.

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms**_

_Remixed Chapter 7_

* * *

A moment of peace. Leaning back in what had unofficially become her chair, Dr. Janet Fraiser released a light, blissful sigh. No emergencies, no critical patients needing her immediate attention, nothing beyond Honorary Dr. Light's capabilities to handle...

There was a knock on her door.

"Dr. Fraiser?"

Speak of the blue devil.

"Dr. Light," Dr. Fraiser greeted her blue wearing assistant medic with a slight nod. "Something I can do for you?"

"Calling me Xavier instead of Dr. Light would be nice. I keep thinking dad's ghost is right behind me." The brunette stage shivered on cue.

Jannet laughed, "All right. Dr. Xavier," she chuckled at his child-like – and admittedly cute – miniature smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Zackery's pre-mission check," X began, only to be cut off by Dr. Fraiser's startled gasp.

"He hasn't come in yet!" Desperately, she checked the wall clock. "Damn it, he's on a mission in fifteen minutes!" A soft, light chuckle caused her to blink. "What?"

"I cleared him yesterday," her assistant admitted meekly.

It took Janet a moment to process those four words.

"You cleared him," she repeated.

X gulped but otherwise replied with a positive nod.

"You cleared him. When not more than seventy two hours ago he was sitting in ground zero of a parking lot turned demolition field."

Slowly, X shirked back towards the exit, cowering under the doctor's well-honed glare.

"He's lived through worse...?" X submitted in his defense.

Dr. Fraiser saw red. By time Dr. Fraiser was at boiling point, X was running for the door. If he was lucky he'd be able to get to safety before she blew.

"_Dr. Light!_"

...Big if.

* * *

"Er...Z? Little help here?"

Zero snickered slightly at the scene before him. There was currently a multicolored mummy standing in the middle of the room, wrapped, instead of in bandages, in several different types of wire and string. A pair of wire cutters were located not more than an inch away from the mummy's tangled feet. Even the bare, exposed toes had somehow managed to become wrapped in string.

Leaning back against the door frame of what was supposed to be his private on-base quarters, Zero forced his voice to sound bored, lazy, even though he wanted to laugh out-loud. "King Tut called. He wants his spring wrappings back."

"Ha-ha, Zero," Axl's voice echoed from the general direction in which the boy's head was located. It was hard to tell, seeing as only one emerald green eye was showing from under the large plume of wire.

_(Zero, just get him out of there. If you don't hurry, Dr. Fraiser is going to drag you in here so fast, your ponytail will spin.)_

Which would be a bad thing, indeed. There was only so much they could fudge on medical records without being caught. Have Dr. Fraiser take a close look at them, and everything they had going for them would fall apart. Pranks included.

_(Besides. You're both late and you know it.)_

"Yeah, so there," Axl somehow managed to stuck his tongue out at Zero from between the red and green wires. Zero shook his head slightly, one hand resting on his forehead so as to attempt to hide his snicker.

"You are most certainly an idiot."

Fifteen minutes and three head bangs later, the two were literally racing to make their deadline at the locker rooms. "I am officially blaming our tardiness on you!" Zero huffed.

"Great, fine," Axl countered, "But if O'Neill's our send out, you better not tell him _why_!!"

Zero fought back a very uncharacteristic mad-scientist style laugh. There was a very good reason as to why he had placed so many prank-earned detentions in Axl's file.

With exactly six seconds to spare, the duo screeched into the locker room.

"We're...here!" Axl managed to pant out.

Both boys looked up when they heard gasps of shock. Axl's face burned to a bright mortified pink, where as Zero simply examined the towel wearing ladies before him.

"Huh. Not bad figures, girls."

A shrill scream echoed in answer. The first thing to come flying at them was someone's red-orange slip-on sandals. The next twenty items were various bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and the occasional bottle of shaving cream. All of which hit the door the moment Zero managed to get it shut.

Major Samantha Carter kept her favorite fluffy pink towel clutched extremely close to her chest, a shocked expression on her face, the slightest tinge of concern twittering in the back of her mind, and her breathing just about as labored as if she had outrun another Death Glider.

_I so have to tell Janet about this..._

* * *

Axl and Zero stood side by side, both now properly dressed in combat attire, both desperately attempting not to look in the general direction of anyone in particular. They were also trying their best to ignore the snickers of laughing from their fellow officers.

"Wallace! Wily! Stop daydreaming about the ladies and get your asses over here!"

Axl once again turned a lovely shade of mortified pink. Zero, on the other hand, simply grabbed the boy by the ear and dragged him over to the commander of SG-6.

"Gentlemen," Commander Lorance puffed his old frame up slightly in an effort to get the two children of his unit to pay more attention to him, "We are going to go have a nice little exploration of this place. SG-1 came here first, said they didn't find anybody, but I sure as hell don't want to get caught off guard in case they _did _miss something. That's why Colonel Makepeace has so graciously loaned me our young linguist friend. That would be you, boy."

"Y-Yes sir!" Axl gulped out. By now the mortified pink had dulled down to a more rose red color.

Lorance released a long, drawn out sigh. "Let's just get on with it..."

"Yes, sir!" the brown haired soldier snickered. "Come on, guys, let's get going!"

"The technical term is, Move Out!" the blond corrected.

"Whatever."

Meanwhile, Lorance was having an interesting discussion with Zero while Axl was busy trying to catch up with the two boys ahead of them.

"Zero," Zero pulled back slightly, "Has that boy _ever_ seen a decent woman before?"

Zero's snicker, complete with its feral gleam of ivory fang, served as his commander's answer.

"Huh. I figured as much. You really need to get that boy out on a date."

"Trust me, sir. I've been trying since the day I met him."

The backs of Axl's ears were now bright enough to be considered candidates for stop signs.

* * *

It was rude of him, he knew, to be purposely listening in to a private conversation. But, with Axl and Zero off-world, and, as a result, taking their daily banter with them, things had seemed far too quiet in the back of X's mind. The silence was oddly deafening. Truth be told, things being as quiet as they were was starting to make X a little more than jumpy. Something just wasn't right without Zero and Axl whispering in the back of his head...

"So then he just kind of smiles, a laid back, lazy kind of smile which sends chills right down my spine..." Carter rambled on.

"Are you serious?" Janet giggled.

"And all he did was hum before making some remark about our figures."

It was like listening to rookie Hunter girls all over again.

"Dr. Light, would you like to add anything insightful to the topic at hand?" Dr. Fraiser calmly called him out. X froze, still mid-placement of another emergency supply kit.

"...Sounds exactly like something Zero would say..." _Especially after what happened with Iris..._ X let his final comment go unspoken. Janet and Samantha exchanged a subtle look of concern, noticing the sudden forlorn expression on X's features.

"Doctor...? Is something wrong?" Samantha questioned first. X looked up at her, a tired, small smile greeting her.

"Flirting with young, beautiful women, especially when they're caught unaware, is Zero's specialty, Major Carter. It has been ever since..." _How much truth is enough? How much is too much?_ "Ever since his...fiancée was..." X quickly swallowed a cold lump forming in the back of his throat. "I'm afraid that's something you'll have to discuss with him. Excuse me."

The only thing which could have kept X in the room by then would have been a full scale medical emergency.

"Unauthorized Off-World Activation."

The small blue medic stopped mid step, his hand a breath away from the knob leading into his room. He looked up at the flashing red lights with unseeing eyes.

Something was wrong... missing...

Dead.

* * *

He heard the words as clear as day. Which, of course, served as only fuel to his furious fire. He was _going_ to kill everything in his way 'til he got to him. He was _not_ going to let up. Not for anything.

Not while there was still time.

"Fall Back!! Move, Move, Move!!"

His finger never left the trigger. Blond hair slipped past him. Another golden stream of energy took the young brunet out on his left, while two more pegged the blond boy on his right.

A streak of orange was running straight towards him. His own fire was passing over his shoulder, fruitlessly annoying the chasing black behemoth. Gold was just beginning to form on the raised wrist.

"_**AXL!!**_"

It was too late.

Slow motion took over. Topaz eyes watched, wide and, for the first time since his mind had swum to consciousness, scared. The heartless golden orb hit the familiar orange haired child directly in the back, and kept going. Black blood sprayed out, the smell of melting circuitry reached his nose before the rest of the slow vision had so much as touched his brain. Various wires were strewn in different directions.

A face lost in a mix of shock and horror locked itself deep in Zero's memory. This image, in turn, was superimposed by yet another image, this one of a young brunette woman. The very one who had stolen his heart.

It wasn't fair that they should share the exact same face.

Time returned to normal only when a spark of bluish white light leapt from the falling friend before him. It slammed directly into Zero's chest, knocking him cold.

Someone was pulling on him, dragging him. The light of a thousand stars flashed past. Words were unmistakable.

"Shut 'er down!"

"What happened?"

"No time to explain, just move!"

_There's still time! Damn it, there's still time!!_

"Axl!!"

Zero snapped back to consciousness, fighting free of the otherwise weak hold. He never noticed X standing in the doorway. He never saw the familiar brown form of the Jaffa Teal'c coming up behind him. All he saw was the blue puddle leading back to Axl's broken form. All he could think about was jumping straight through with his armor and rescuing his crumpled friend.

White gloved fingers brushed the surface of the Stargate's serene liquid pool, when the light suddenly died and the ring returned to being nothing more than stone.

Zero toppled to the ground, his hands spread out before him for balance. Hardly anyone went behind the Stargate, whether it was active or not. If he looked hard enough, he could actually see his handprint in the dust.

"No... Axl..."

Whether it was the familiar arms of his favorite pupil wrapping themselves under his precious blond hair and eventually wrapping themselves around his waist, and him not caring, or the tears which fell from his own two eyes, which startled him more, not even he knew.

_I thought I couldn't cry..._

"Zero..." X's voice whispered gently in his ear, an unheard, unfelt feeling in his voice.

Zero felt as if he were dying, sprawled out as he was on the back ramp of the Stargate, holding X's hand as if he were a small child just waking from a nightmare.

"X...Axl...He...He's dead..."

X tightened his grip on Zero's hold.

"I...I know..."

"He's fucking _dead!!"_

If there hadn't been a dent in the walkway before, there was now. Zero's free fist pounded relentlessly into the hard, unforgiving steal.

"He's dead he's dead he's dead, and it's all my fucking fault!!" Zero took a deep, furious breath.

"_**DAMN IT!!**_"

Before darkness swamped him and he fell into an endless oblivion...

The young medic gently picked up his friend, carrying him in his arms much as he would a wounded child, and walked calmly back down the ramp. There was a broken expression on his face, one that seemed to have the same effect Moses had on the Red Sea, parting his path down towards the elevator. Amber green eyes watched their topaz counterparts darting behind closed lids, silent signs that their owner was lost in a nightmarish haze.

It was only when a familiar gloved hand reached out to push the button labeled twenty-one on the inside of the elevator that the world came back into focus. X looked over at the hobbling Commander Lorance, who was in turn being supported by Colonel Makepeace. Lorance's glance flickered from the sleeping Zero to the disheartened X in silent question.

A single heaven blue colored tear noiselessly falling down to join a silent stream of what almost looked like blood red colored tears cascading down into a sea of blond answered him. Lorance lowered his head slightly, making a cross over himself with his bloody left hand, with Makepeace following as best he was able.

A very unprofessional "Holy shit..." whispered its way down the corridor.

"Janet! Get two stretchers out here, now!"

"Don't bother..." X whispered, more for Zero than for himself, "The dead don't need stretchers..."

In the back of Dr. Janet Fraiser's mind, choruses of cherubs were currently singing the Hallelujah Chorus, replacing the famous repetitive word with its exact polar opposite.

"Alright, Commander Lorance, let's get you set up," the ever professional Dr. Fraiser ordered. "Dr. Light can you...? Dr. Light?" There was no response.

_Damn it, you, don't you dare go into shock on me!_

"I will take care of Zero..." Though X's tone of voice made the otherwise normal sounding sentence seem more like a proclamation.

Despite the fact no one was stupid enough to have touched the air-conditioning for her med lab, the temperature inside felt like it had dropped a good ten degrees.

_Zero... I can't hear you anymore... It's too silent. It's... It's too quiet! Axl!_

Tears continued to fall unabated as X moved. The red-tinted combat boots fell with the equivalent of thunderous booms, shortly being followed by his remaining gear. The only items of clothing allowed to remain were Zero's camouflage pants and his off-white firing gloves, now stained an odd black color from the powder residue of his weapon.

"...I'm gonna need a drink later..." Zero's voice whispered up to his ear. "...Wanna come...?"

X smiled, a broken smile shining with only the lightest hint of comedy. "If only to keep you from putting us into debt with property damage..."

Zero's topaz eyes returned the broken smile with their own flicker of amusement, his true expression being warped by the green of the oxygen mask. "Deal..."

_I am going to find you, you fucking bastard, and when I do. I _will_ kill you. For Axl._


	8. Chapter 8

Still here? Well, okay, let's see if I can make this chapter work better...

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 8_

* * *

Ice which was oddly refusing to melt swirled in the small glass, making a clinking noise as it hit the side. Some kind of foul, amber-colored liquid sloshed with the gentle stirring motion. A single blob fell out of the glass. Clinging to the side, it slowly climbed down the edge, 'til it came to land on normal looking white flesh. The liquid quickly froze into a solid droplet.

Zero hummed slightly to himself, his vision impaired by the beverage in his hand. He lifted the glass higher, examining the frozen droplet.

X answered the silent query by plucking the droplet from his skin. It melted back into its familiar liquid form just as quickly as it had frozen. Without so much as waiting a breath, X casually licked the droplet off his finger.

"More ice, sir?" the bartender questioned. He was an odd man, a little too round to fit behind the counter, with his hair pulled up high in an unusual purple colored Mohawk.

The Blue Bomber tipped his glass closer to the edge of the bar. "Sure. And more gin, for the both of us."

"Coming right up."

A man wearing a black tuxedo casually took a seat next to X, while another man in identical dress took a seat next to Zero. The unusual bartender poured out another large helping of gin, adding another four cubes to X's glass. X watched, wordless with drunken solitude, as the ice melted in mere seconds. If he just concentrated a fraction more of his strength, then he was more than certain the contents would burst into flame.

Zero clapped a hand on his wrist. The steam gathering at the top of his gin instantly died away.

_I wonder,_ some small, still sober part of Zero's mind muttered, _if Axl left us a present._

A month. A long, terrible, painful month had passed since Axl had been killed. Unable to stand the dead feeling inside the Mountain, X and Zero had agreed to take their offered condolence leave, rent a hotel, and flee into the city. Normally, there'd have been a ceremony. Something – anything – to honor a fallen comrade. But given how hot the area had been, the top brass had decided it wasn't worth the lives of more fine soldiers just to go back and retrieve the bodies of the fallen.

And so Zero and X had decided to spend their allowed month in morning the only way Zero knew how to best morn. Get drunk every night and spend every day going through Axl's videogame collection. Who knew how much stuff that kid could buy on a government paycheck?

On that somber note, the Red Hunter downed another glass full of gin, ice cubes and all.

"What's wrong? Did the Project have another _accident_?" the bartender growled ever so slightly.

The glass in X's hand shattered, prickles of glass sticking in his skin. Zero, on the other hand, casually put his glass down. There was a lazy look in his eyes, like a cat watching a bird obliviously hopping ever closer to its death.

"We work on deep space radar telemetry," Zero purred.

The bartender grabbed another glass, this time filled with what looked like blue vodka. X wordlessly took up the glass. It went down as if it were just another shot.

"But maybe," X's voice held a purr so similar to Zero's, it was almost scary. He gently tossed his glass in the air before continuing, "You could tell us why the NID would go to such lengths as to drug two civilians when they're obviously having a very bad night?"

The glass above X's head shattered in a burst of heat, leaving both of his hands free to grab a tight hold of the bartender's vest. The two tuxedo wearing men pulled out their firearms, while several more men – at least twenty – seemed to appear seemingly from nowhere, all of whom were carrying several different kinds of firearms. Each gun was tipped with a silencer.

Zero seemed to snicker, his eyes hidden behind his blond bangs, "Why do they always think numbers matter?"

X was the first to move, taking the Mohawk bartender and lifting him over the bar, only to release him in a one armed throw. Several of the men just barely managed to duck his huge girth, only to find themselves being knocked back by a sudden gust of wind.

Two explosions of light echoed out from the two "normal civilians". In less than a minute, a green energy saber was blaring in Zero's hand, creating an unusual shadow effect on his red armor, while the glow of a slowly charging Megabuster added an unusual yellowish glow to X's blue armor.

Zero's face twisted into an insane looking amount of glee.

"Let's brawl."

* * *

"Jack…"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"What are we doing here?"

Colonel Jack O'Neill continued to watch the small pub from behind the wheel of his truck/SUV, acting for a moment as if he were contemplating the question. Fortunately for the archeologist sitting next to him, the large mountain of a man wearing an inconspicuous knitted hat answered the question before Jack had a chance to release his building tension in the form of a very sarcastic answer.

Having a whole team killed in one day kind of gave him a bad attitude for a while.

"We are here to monitor Dr. Rock Light and Zackary Wily," Teal'c answered in his usual monotone.

"Okay... Why?" At the moan from the Black Ops colonel sitting next to him, Daniel quickly added, "I mean if they feel they need time alone, then I really think we should give them their time alone. Honestly, Jack, they just lost a brother. Albeit, he's not a biological brother, but he was pretty damn close."

"Carter, care to tell Dr. Jackson here what Janet told you?" O'Neill called over to his 2IC, who was currently looking over Teal'c's shoulder with a pair of night vision binoculars.

"She said Wily was muttering something about needing to kill someone on his way out." Samantha answered, fighting back a shutter. The duo had been acting like zombies, just going through the motions when they had come back for the last of Wallace's things. But then, Sam supposed, picking up and going through the personal effects of someone who was like a sibling over the course of a full month could lead to emotional detachment. She still remembered how it felt to pack away all of her mother's things and that had been over ten years ago.

...No wonder they kept heading to McDuffy's repaired bar at night.

"So... we're basically here to make sure they don't get drunk enough to kill somebody." Dr. Jackson's counter cut Sam's musings short.

"Yep," Jack muttered, taking out his own night vision binoculars.

"In other words, we don't trust them; therefore we're making sure they don't become a liability."

The binoculars literally flew down from Jack's eyes.

"Daniel."

"I'm just saying,"

"I know what you're "just saying", Daniel, and it's not true. We do trust them." When the archeologist's stare continued to pound directly into him, Jack squirmed, adding as he turned back to stare at the bar, "Just...not so much..."

It had been a month since all but two members of SG-6 had been killed in what was looking to be the worst ambush of SGC history. Wily and Light had taken the death of their friend, Wallace, hard. Harder than most people, really. But it wasn't just how they were taking their friend's death that was setting off all sorts of warnings among the SG Command staff.

The six inch deep dent in the back of the 'Gate ramp had been the first of many little red flags popping up. A deeper look into their background had brought up a laundry list of inconsistencies. Taken individually, no one single thing in their background was enough to be a problem. Looked at in concert, and they turned into a paint-by-numbers Picasso of serious proportions. None of them had seen Dr. Fraiser in a medical capacity. Their preliminary med screenings had been verified by Dr. Light, if he even was a med student. Their records -- forged by an expert hacker. The schools they claim to have gone to did exist, but their photos and names were conspicuously absent from the yearbooks Jack had dug up. It almost looked as though the trio had just dropped out of orbit and straight into their laps.

What Jack was looking at now was a trio of coincidences. If there was one thing Jack had learned in Black Ops, it was that there may be miracles, but there was no such thing as coincidences.

Worst of all, SGC wasn't the only one looking up the Diner Trio. Scuttlebutt had it the NID was circling something like vultures to a three day old carcass. There was also a rumor on the grapevine that said "something" was directly tied in to the "random" destruction of McDuffy's bar and the Diner Trio's involvement there forthwith.

Samantha blinked, pulling back her binoculars for a moment, before slipping them back on. "What the...?"

"What is it, Major Carter?" Teal'c questioned. Jaffa sight was good, but not _that_ good.

Before Samantha had a chance to answer, a well rounded man with an oddly out of place purple colored Mohawk came flying out of one of the pub's side windows. Directly behind him were three or four men in familiar tuxedos, all of whom had firearms which were either bent in the wrong place, had been melted down into useless pieces of scrap, or were missing the barrel all together. The larger man was the first to recover, taking off at a speed far too fast for any normal person, much less a fat person.

Everyone in Jack's truck blinked blankly at the sight.

"Is it just me, or is that a fat man with a Mohawk running way too fast to be a fat man?"

"It is indeed."

"Rhetorical question, T." O'Neill snapped the clip on his gun in place. "Carter, Teal'c, after fatso. Daniel, you're with me. Let's move people!"

* * *

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Oh shit!_

"Boss! We got a problem!"

There was a dull click in the back of his hearing as his internal radio switched on.

/What sort of problem?/

"It didn't work! The drugs you gave me to spike those Hunters' drinks! They _didn't work!!_" Oh, hell, they were right behind him, and damn were they pissed. Those stupid humans couldn't do anything right, much less hold back those two Hunters for the precious minutes he'd need to escape!

/What do you mean the drugs didn't work?/

"I mean they didn't work! I put enough drugs in their drinks to knock out a full-scale Reploid elephant and they _still_ didn't go under!" Stupid greenery, getting in his way. He'd only cleared a quarter of a mile – he'd need to clear a whole mile if he had any prayer of escaping pissed Hunters. If only he had access to his armory, then he'd have a clear strip out of here in a few seconds flat. But, no, no weapons. The dumb drugs were supposed to do the work, not him.

/So in short, you failed./

"Yes! I mean no! Oh, boss, come on, please! Just send ToadSkin out to help or... or something!"

/Your armor has been deployed. At least try to take them down with you./ The connection abruptly cut with a curt, emotionless _click_.

Well, at least having his armor sent to him would be better than nothing. Let's see... It would take his armor another twenty seconds to warp to him. That would be just enough time to loose the Hunters (maybe) and slip into a civilian settlement. No way would the Hunters look to actively engage him with innocent humans around.

"Freeze!"

And speaking of humans, there were two now. Fast little buggers, those two, their Air Force fatigues clinging to their sweating features. A tall African American and his petite blond whitey, both of whom had their firearms pointed at him. Even without his armor, those stupid pea-shooters were nothing to him.

Already, he felt his armor beginning to condense around him, its transfer warp a handful of seconds from being complete.

"Silly, silly human. Do you really think a Maverick like me would be afraid of your silly little firearm?" He lifted his arm, relishing in the fear he saw on the little blondes' face. And the other Mavericks had thought puffer fish themed armor would just make the humans and their pet Hunters laugh instead of quake with fear.

A blast without warning to his mid-section cut his gloating short. The shot had been strong enough to go through his partway formed armor, though him, and out the other side, leaving a wide, gaping hole in where his primary core used to be.

Samantha could only flinch when the gunshot-like blast sounded off. Stunned, she could only watch as the man (monster? robot?) fell forward. Its – his? – body hit dry forest dirt with a dull, dead thump.

"Samantha Carter," Teal'c's rumble knocked Sam back from her stunned observation of the dead thing to something far more dangerous.

There was someone standing in the underbrush. Two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty yards from where the _thing_ had been standing, there was something else standing with one arm outstretched. Even with their flashlights, the forest was too dark for either Samantha or Teal'c to see what, exactly, was standing with a smoking weapon in its grip. Its outline looked vaguely human – but as both knew from experience, just because it looked human did not mean it was. Regardless, it was still armed.

Whatever it was turned on its heel and fled, disappearing into the perfect darkness of the woods in a matter of seconds.

With an air of confused disbelief, Samantha holstered her weapon.

"That thing had armor," Sam noted.

"Indeed," Teal'c rumbled.

"Blue?" she asked.

"Blue," her alien cohort confirmed.

"Well," Sam sighed, "To quote Colonel O'Neill: There goes the neighborhood."

* * *

X and Zero stood side by side, still in armor, atop a well forested hill overlooking Colonel O'Neill's split team. Jack and Daniel had struck out for the most part, finding nothing more than moaning bodies littered from one end of McDuffy's to the other. What those particular bodies had on them, however, was more than enough for the Black Ops Colonel. O'Neill's first act on exiting the bar was to pull out his cell – likely to get a hold of General Hammond and see what, if anything, could be made of the mess of NID agents. Major Carter, a scant three quarters of a mile away, was also on her cell, attempting to call the Colonel.

All X and Zero could do – would do – would be to watch the odd chaos of post-battle cleanup, and wait as things were pieced together.

"I still don't feel any better," Zero pouted childishly.

"I suppose we never will... Not until something snaps," X mused, a faint feline smile working its way onto his lips.

"You should have let me handle him," Zero commented nonchalantly.

"They would have seen your face," X countered.

"So?"

"Our leave time runs out tomorrow. You've been transferred to SG-3, and so you're going to run into Major Carter sooner or later."

Zero shrugged slightly, humming, "Good point." Interlocking his fingers behind his head, Zero stretched, adding conversationally, "Actually, General Hammond wants SG-3 to back SG-1 up on a mission tomorrow."

"What kind of mission?"

A few nondescript black vans were chugging their way up the road now. O'Neill walked out to meet them, watching as though this were business as usual as the vans unloaded their hodgepodge of sleep-deprived Army, Air Force, and Marine groups.

"Nothing too major. The Tok'ra want Major Carter to look over some tech they found or some such B.S." Zero half shrugged. He'd read enough of the mission brief to realize SG-3's job would be nothing more than added muscle and 'Gate guard, then put it aside, interest lost. Turning back to watch Daniel direct a group Marines to follow him, Zero added, "So... How 'bout them Mavericks?"

"It didn't have enough heavy munitions."

"Yep."

"It wasn't the same as the one who attacked you."

"Nope."

"Which means we're not only dealing with the SGC's problem of a demigod having Reploid tech, but of multiple Mavericks planet-side working with the NID," X surmised.

"Yep," Zero agreed. He shoot a look towards X. "You worried about Doc Frasier's daughter?"

"You've read the report same as I," X responded.

There was almost something comical, the Blue Hunter figured, to watch six fully trained Marines attempt – and fail – to lift a fully armored Reploid onto a transport dolly. Fortunately for all involved, Carter had disabled any weaponry that might still have been live. Coupled with the Maverick's lack of a power core, courtesy of X, and the only danger in transport should have been its weight alone.

"You think the NID is so desperate to get its hands a gal like Cassie that they'd sic Mavericks on her?"

"Remember that report about Nirrti's involvement?"

"The one I had to hack past Carter's firewalls to get?" And brother, had that been a hard hack. Inside job or not, getting in, getting the data, and then covering his tracks had been harder than fighting some Maverick bosses. Fortunately, he'd had Axl to watch his back...

_Axl... No. Don't think about it. Not now._

"The one in the same," X confirmed. "Zero, what _didn't_ we see in that report?"

Zero paused for a moment. "Ah." Two plus two was coming together about Dr. Frasier's adopted daughter – and it wasn't equaling four. Someone with the SGC had gone to a great deal of trouble to hide certain facts about Cassandra from those who already knew she was an alien.

"And there was also kidnapping the General's granddaughters," X added on.

"I get it, I get it," Zero waved at his friend, cutting him off mid list. "She offered you a place at her house?"

"Back when we went on leave, yeah."

"Think the invite's still open?"

X managed a small chuckle, "If I pout, maybe."

"Good," Zero snickered as well, "I'd hate to see her label you a stalker just because you're trying to keep an eye on Cassie. But even with you watching her..."

"I can use the public library computers tomorrow when I'm off shift."

"To?"

X blinked, looking up from observing the clean-up crew plus SG-1 pulling out and heading off towards the Mountain.

"To use your portable bug to plant a Trojan in the NID mainframe," X replied.

"Oh." Looking out over the now silent woods, Zero shrugged. "Well, now that all the excitement's over, how about we head back to the hotel? I'm exhausted."

"Me too." Turning back to reclaim their car, X paused. "You didn't really put the hotel bill on Colonel O'Neill's credit card, did you?" All Zero did was chuckle in his demonic-yet-innocent fashion. "Oh, Zero, you didn't. Zero!"


	9. Chapter 9

I apologize for not fulfilling my earlier promise to get one chapter out a week. Here's two, as a sort of apology gift. In my defense, school has kicked into high gear, and homework has thus attacked.

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 9_

* * *

Well now. This was bad.

Earlier that afternoon, he had received word from his Maverick agent that the attempt to capture those two damnable Hunters had failed miserably. Five hours ago, the head of the NID had called in screaming about the fact a good half dozen of his agents were now in the custody of the SGC. So far, all he had was a large dose of chaos here on this mud ball of a planet.

The wispy silver shadow chuckled to itself within the darkness of a frigid Virginia night. One of the benefits of being a ghost -- or, whatever he was, seeing as he had never thought himself in possession of a soul before -- was that he could be anywhere he wished to be in the proverbial blink of an eye. The laws of physics did not apply to non-corporeal entities such as himself.

"_Ah, my ride is here so soon?"_ the sickly silver wisp pouted to itself.

"Good evening, Senator."

Senator John Kinsey returned his driver's greeting with a slight smile and a gentle tip of his head, "Evening, Hank."

"Another late night meeting on the Hill, Senator?" Hank questioned innocently, revving up the limo's engine.

"And unfortunately, its one I'm running late for," the Senator hinted.

"Yes sir."

One of the few drawbacks to being able to cross the galaxy in less time than it took a humming bird to beat its wings was that any vessel he had decided to hold as his own needed to be abandoned temporarily. Vessels with conscious thought tended to get lost when he left them behind for too long. The stupider ones would begin to spout off nonsense about being possessed by the devil or aliens to anyone who would hear them out. Smarter ones would stay quiet, not even telling their personal psychiatrists about the fact they had been used as nothing more than a cheap suit.

Unfortunately for him, Senator Kinsey was a vessel who fit both categories. He was a genius in the fact he knew how to play politics as though it were nothing more than a child's game, giving him access to sources it would have taken his current ally decades to build up. And yet, Kinsey was an idiot when it came to having common sense.

This latter trait made it necessary for him to "store" his vessel whenever he had meetings to attend to.

"Here you are, sir," Hank's voice pulled him from his musings.

"Thank you." Senator Kinsey clambered out of the limo with all the grace of a heard of elephants.

"_Humans,"_ the wispy smoke huffed. In his real body, he would have never been caught dead looking so... undignified.

Fifteen minutes later, and Senator Kinsey had locked himself in a broom closet ten feet away from the Senate Finance Committee's private meeting room. Another five minutes passed during which the Senator calmly wrapped his tie around his neck and proceeded to strangle himself until finally knocking himself unconscious.

The ghost-thing gave himself a small pat on the back -- or tried to seeing as silver wisps had neither hands nor backs -- for managing to think up such a clever way of storing his vessel on such short notice. Then without much further thought, he schooled what would appear to be his "expression" into one of annoyance before blinking himself before his co-conspirator.

"_A situation has arisen on Earth. A situation problematic enough that it will cause severe complications to our full plan if I do not put my full attention to it. So -- this report had best be important, Anubis."_

The half-descended System Lord merely smiled from behind the thin veil which blocked his intangible features from the remainder of existence.

"Oh, I assure you that this is very important," Anubis' voice echoed around his sealed chamber as though it were a living shadow. "Very important indeed, Lumine."

* * *

_**Elsewhere, in another place, in another time...**_

One hundred years. Three hundred years. Or perhaps it had been three thousand years. No matter how you counted time, it was still a matter of fact. It had been a very long time since those who knew of them had seen all three of The First in full battle armor.

And it had been an even longer time since anyone had seen Dr. Light truly furious.

"I told them. I _told_ them! But did they listen? No. They went off and acted like the hypocrites they are, making a gargantuan mess out of things! What's worse is, once again, we are their bloody cleanup crew!"

Seated comfortably in an oversized plush chair with wrinkled hands folded loosely under his chin, the epitome of a wily mad scientist chuckled.

"If it weren't for the fact we're already dead, Thomas, I'd tell you to watch your blood pressure. After all, that's what did you in last time."

"Oh yes, just go ahead and laugh it up, Albert," Dr. Light fumed.

Laughing, Dr. Albert Wily answered, "I think I will. Besides," he leaned back in the chair, his hands moving to rest behind his halfway bald head, "I've never seen a Santa Claus rant."

Dr. Light opened his mouth to continue on with his rant, only to stop as the words fully registered with him.

"Yes," he chuckled, stroking his lavish Santa beard, "Well, there is a reason malls were crawling all over me during Christmas."

"Huh. And here I was thinking it was for your credit card."

The two elderly scientists laughed, enjoying for the moment a soon to be rare commodity.

A moment of peace.

Dr. Light managed to compose himself first. "Where're Cossack and Dr. Cain?

"Blues is fetching them - although I don't doubt he's stopped to - a-hem - chat with Kalinka."

"We'd best ask Roll to find them, then."

"No, I think it's best if we send one of the Masters after them. Wouldn't want Roll to get 'lost' and find Forte instead," Dr. Wily snickered teasingly.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Father."

Ages ago, Dr. Light, along with half the world, would have fallen over dead in shock, and not because Wily had "made a funny." Standing in the entryway was the second-most feared creature to have graced Mother Earth's soil, dressed in full breath-taking gold and obsidian armor, and one arm wrapped delicately around a familiar female Light-bot's waist.

"Ah, Forte, Roll, perfect timing. Go ahead and get settled - and no, Roll, you may not sit in your boyfriend's lap," Dr. Light chided teasingly, eliciting a brilliant red blush on his daughter's face.

"Papa," Roll blushed, looking anywhere but at Dr. Light.

"But she makes such a comfy lap-warmer!"

"Forte!"

Before Roll could continue further, Forte had moved as quickly as a viper, pecking her lovingly on the cheek. Ducking away, he sniggered, "Not my fault if it's true."

A solid thump sent Forte stage-falling into an open meeting chair.

"Forte, I may accept the fact you're dating my sister, but that doesn't mean I have like it. Or let you get away with it."

"Oh, you are _testy_!" Forte laughed gaily.

Rockman sighed from his position behind Forte's seat. "I'm not testy, Forte. I'm pissed."

Red eyes called out by the vertical purple stripes of color directly under them blinked in obvious confusion. Looking up, the ebony and gold armored warrior found his blue counterpart trying valiantly to disguise an obvious scowl. Even his green eyes sparkled in aggravation.

His teasing demeanor shifted instantly. Forte may have loved seeing Rocky Light - also known as Blueberry, Bubble-head, and more commonly Rockman the Superhero Battle Robot of 20XX – pissed, given his original design plan to destroy him. But, he only enjoyed it when he alone was the cause of his fury. Anyone, any_thing_ else, and things just weren't fun. And things not being fun made Forte a very aggravated Wily-bot.

"Now I know someone's going to lose their head. Question is," he paused, turning to face both his creator and Dr. Light, "Who's the lucky bastard?"

Dr. Wily sighed. "Once Blues is here, Forte, I'll be... happy, to direct you towards the volunteer-to-be-decapitated."

Forte nodded, his arms crossed. "He's got five minutes."

"'Til you sick Gospel on me?"

There was hardly a blink from the ebony and gold warrior. It was something about the fact that after the first twenty or so years of being jumped, the Red Raider's appearing trick lost its edge.

"Oh, Blues!" Roll gasped, tackling the shade wearing, scarf donning eldest Wily-Light-bot. Had he been anything but, Roll's hug would have left him with a broken back.

"Whoa, hey, easy there, sis!" Blues gagged, backing up a step.

"Oh my," an aged, grandfatherly voice rustled through a thick Russian accent, "If Roll's this upset even after heaven knows how many hours with Forte, then there is most certainly something wrong."

"Unfortunately, yes, Dr. Cossack," Dr. Light sighed tiredly.

"Is X alright?" a second voice, more American in hue, rose with a tinge of fear in its tone.

Rock's expression fell further into a mix of anger and sadness. "No, Dr. Cain. X is not alright."

"The - The failsafe..." Roll gulped out.

It was at this point where Rockman tossed out a scrunched newspaper. With a plop and twist, it landed face up in the center of the oval meeting table. Those newcomers paled in a mix of fear, rage, and a multitude of other emotions.

"Oh, fuck."

It was amazing how two little words could sum up the situation so nicely.

* * *

Morning dawned on the mountain housing "Project Bluebook" with a dull glitter of lukewarm sunshine. A spattering of grey clouds marred the otherwise clear blue sky. Off in the east, so far away it could just barely be seen on the horizon, nature was letting loose with a thunderous lightning storm large enough to block all but a fraction of the sun's warmth. It was almost as though nature itself were still in denial about the lives lost over a month ago and was trying in vain to stop another day without them from coming.

Sitting at command of their motor pool-borrowed car, Zero could only sigh. "You've gone through that book already," he noted.

Both hands in his lap clutching tight to a book the same width as a cinder block, X merely hummed back at Zero in an affirmative, his attention otherwise eaten by the book in his lap.

"Twice," Zero added.

X once again hummed in confirmation.

"Oh look, a pink bunny rabbit."

"That's nice, Zero."

Zero shot the Blue Bomber beside him with as best a glare as he could. "You're ignoring me."

"More like selective denial," X countered, flipping to the next page.

"Selective denial isn't going to make our job any easier," Zero returned.

Shutting the book with a sigh, X replied, "Tell me something I don't know." X continued, leaning one arm against the door, "It isn't getting easier, Zero – coming back to SGC, I mean. We've already been in there three times, and I still feel like everyone is treating us like glass."

"No joke," Zero snorted. "But remember, X, we're not Hunters here. We're pretty much nobodies to them."

"I keep wondering, though..."

"Yeah?" his red companion nudged.

"I keep wondering..." Abruptly, X changed the subject. "You're packing your armor?"

Going with the flow, Zero responded, "Yeah. I figured SG-3 might need it."

"You'll have to tell them if you use it, you know. About who we really are."

"Which is what you keep wondering about. Their reactions."

"Yeah..." X sighed. "This is getting complicated."

"Che," Zero snorted, slowing the car down so as to show their IDs to the front guardsmen, "Since when were our lives _not_ complicated?"

Fishing his ID out, X chuckled as well. "Point," he conceded.

There was only a minute delay as the guard checked their IDs. Then, without preamble, the main gate was opened. After retrieving their IDs from the guard on duty, Zero proceeded on into the Mountain and down into the main parking garage, their short trip punctuated by nothing more than silence. Parking was the usual annoying affair of attempting to find a good spot. Once found, however, Zero put the car into park, and shut off the engine.

For a long, silent moment, Zero and X sat in their borrowed car.

"You ever get that feeling...?" Zero began.

"That today is going to turn into hell on wheat toast?" X cut in, finishing his friend's question.

"I was thinking rye," the Red Hunter quipped.

"We really should just get this over with."

"Yep."

The two paused for another moment. Quickly, X and Zero turned to face one another. On automatic their hands met in a complicated handshake involving multiple fist taps and ending with a single high-five.

"Unit 17 and Unit Zero, all the way," X intoned.

"Amen." Grabbing the door handle, the blond Reploid added, "Let's get hunting."

* * *

It was with little surprise that Zero found Dallas waiting for him just inside the locker room's door. The young Marine was attempting to hide his nervousness by busying himself with double-checking his pack. Watching him reshuffle a few emergency supplies, Zero realized both X and he had forgotten something important. Although they had not been members of the SGC for very long, all of them – X, Zero, and Axl – had managed to form friendships.

Axl's death had affected more than just Zero and X – it had affected others, such as the members of SG-3. Others who had been alone in their morning; alone like Zero, like X...

Casually, Zero took a seat next to the fidgeting Marine.

"You know," Zero began, only to stop when Dallas jumped a good inch.

"Oh, crap, Wily! D-Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," Zero apologized.

"I..." Dallas ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I should apologize to you, Wily. Wallace... Wallace was a good kid. We should have taken better care of him. _I_ should have taken better care of him."

Calmly, as though it were an everyday occurrence, Zero slung his arm around Dallas in a hug.

"He was right, you know." At the confused Marine's questioning look, Zero added, "Axl. He was right about you. You've got a good heart, kid." He paused just long enough for that to sink in before patting Dallas' back. "Well, come on, Dallas, move it! I don't want to be late with for my first Marine gig."

_And I promise you, Axl, wherever you are... I won't fail to keep a friend safe. Not again._ Patting the lump in his pack which was his armor's portable storage unit, Zero whispered, "Not again."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 10_

* * *

There were few things in the universe that would ever change. Water would be wet, fire would be hot, the Fates were never kind, and a medic ward would always smell of death no matter how much disinfectant was used on it. Or what species frequented it.

It was with a twist of will X pushed the imagined scent of death out of his head. This, was Dr. Fraiser's medical ward. This, is where he had a job to do. There in the corner dozing peacefully was an airmen recovering from a broken leg. Behind a curtain next to him was his teammate, this one recovering from a broken arm. None too far away on the other side of the hall was yet a third airmen, this one wrapped in a bandage swath, another partial victim of a Super Soldier's upgraded weaponry.

An image of Axl dressed in a hooded black robe and carrying a bone-white beam scythe danced across his field of vision, cackling in some insane scheme. The visionary Axl tapped the Super Soldier wounded airman's IV, checking it. The Axl-Death shook his head, green eyes alight with mirth, and X had the strangest feeling he was being mocked. Robe floating outward in a twisted rendition of butterfly wings, the phantom Axl danced away.

And strangely enough, the scent of death vanished with him.

A soft human hand touched his shoulder, startling him.

"Xavier? Are you alright?" It was Dr. Fraiser. Short, sweet Dr. Fraiser, the one human woman X knew who could send Zero into cold sweats of fear just by glaring at him. Her soft eyes echoed motherly concern for the one she considered an apprentice and – and friend. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she explained.

Allowing his sight to linger a moment longer on the spot Axl, phantom or not, had stood gave X pause to pull his thoughts together. Axl, cackling, had always herald laughter for others. Ample doses of chaos mixed in with said laughter, but laughing joy nonetheless. So then for Axl-Death to have come, and laughed, and gone away empty handed...

At length, X said, "Yes... Yes, I think I am, Dr. Fraiser. I think for the first time in a month, everything is going to be alright." Pulling down his lab coat so as to straighten it, X gave Dr. Fraiser a curt nod, before excusing himself.

"Good morning, Franklin!" X tapped the IV down – the same IV Axl-Death had examined seconds ago – and found it in need of changing. "Looks like the last dose of painkillers have run out. How are you feeling, aside from that?"

There would be no death today, X realized. Not with Axl watching out for them all.

* * *

A cold flash lit by the starlight of thousands of star systems. A brutal feeling of being flung molecule by molecule across the vast empty void of space only to be spat back out as though found distasteful by some giant monster.

Spat straight out into a shin-high pile of sand and a scorching yellow-red sun blaring down on you in a hello.

Zero pulled himself up by his bootstraps, metaphorically speaking, and hauled himself out of the sand trap. Hunter training quickly took over as he examined his surroundings. Desert, desert, and more desert, with about three guys in desert camou cresting a sand dune less than two hundred yards away. Tok'ra, he catalogued, given that the combined units of SG-1 and SG-3 weren't already under heavy fire. In quick dash range located just outside of 'Gate-splash was the DHD tactfully hidden under yet another mound of sand. Keeping his larger firearm square on the incoming – didn't hurt to be careful, even with the SGC's "allies" – Zero subtly, casually, moved to guard their sole way out of this hell-hole if worse came to worse.

"Bloody freakin' damn-it, what is it with these snakes and deserts?" someone, likely Dallas, hissed snake-like under his breath.

"Be nice," Makepeace half ordered, half suggested. Dallas rolled his eyes but otherwise appeared willing to obey.

"A desert makes sense," Zero pitched his voice so Dallas could hear. "If you were a Goa'uld, would _you_ spend a lot of time planning your next conquest to be that of a resource-less planet?"

Listening to Zero's words, Colonel Jack O'Neill fidgeted. Add one more to that list of stuff that didn't just quite make sense about the Diner Trio...

Three humans in desert camou came ever closer, revealing themselves to be the Tok'ra Anise, Tok'ra Ambassador Jacob Carter, and one generic looking bodyguard.

"Colonel O'Neill, Sammy," Jacob greeted the SGC's point men casually.

"Dad," Sam returned the greeting, breaking with protocol long enough to give her father a much-needed hug. She hadn't seen him in a little over a month, not since he had gone back to the Tok'ra with a request from the SGC.

"Major General," Colonel O'Neill gave the Tok'ra ambassador a loose salute. "Got your message. Sounded pretty urgent, so we came runnin'." Despite the fact he was wearing combat grade sunglasses, O'Neill still managed to make it clear he was giving Anise a Class A _Look_. "Please tell me it's not another wacked-out gismo you want us to suicide-mission test."

"As much as my colleague here would like to pass off a new tech toy," and at this point Jacob gave the normally leather-wearing female a stern glare which cut any comments in the quick, "No, I'm afraid we don't have anything for field testing. What we do have, however, pertains to what General Hammond asked me to look into regarding P4X-666. Let me tell you – it wasn't pretty."

Daniel watched out the corner of his eye as Zero stiffened. No, he figured. There'd be no way Zackary Wily would have forgotten the name, such as it was, of the planet on which Wallace had fallen.

"Oh goodie," O'Neill sighed with heavy sarcasm, purposely ignoring the death glare a certain blond was giving him. "This is just a quick pickup and run?"

"But I..." Anise began to say, only to be cut off by her superior's death-laden glare. "Yes," she began again, giving Jacob a look. "Everything we could collect per the SGC's request has been packed and is ready for transport. Although I must protest," _again,_ her voice added the otherwise missing word, "about transporting one unit in specific."

Jacob/Selmak countered the Tok'ra's resident mad scientist with a sharp statement in cutting Egyptian. Whatever it was, it wasn't pretty, and made Daniel's eyebrows jump a few inches closer to his hairline. The end result made the Tok'ra's escort bite down a chuckle and gave Anise the look of a scolded child.

"Alright then. Anything more to say, boys and girls?" At the echoing silence, Jack could only smile. "Great. SG-3, you've got the 'Gate. If we don't check in inside half an hour..." Jack shrugged. "Well, you know the drill."

"Yessir," Makepeace saluted.

Jack returned his attention to Jacob/Selmak. "In the illustrious words of those crazy sci-fi writers: Take us, to your stuff. Or... something like that."

"Dallas, Wily, on that DHD! Thompson, with me on point!"

"_Sir!_"

Moving closer to Jack as SG-1 crested the hill, Teal'c asked as softly as he could, "Are you sure leaving all of SG-3 behind is a wise decision, O'Neill?"

"Well, it's either that, or worry about the DHD being blown to pieces by a surprise attack." At the odd looks sent his way by Teal'c, Jackson, and both Carters, Jack yelped incredulously, "What? I get paid the big bucks to be paranoid!"

All listening, even Anise and the unnamed escort, found themselves chuckling.

* * *

_**Elsewhere, in another place, in another time... **_

"Oh, _shit_."

It was amazing how two little words could sum everything up so completely.

"In Laymen's terms," Dr. Light fought back a small chuckle. "Albert, I believe its best you take it from here."

Dr. Wily nodded, standing from his seat with an air of casualty about him which made one think he was about to lead a symposium round-table discussion. "This," he pointed casually to the newspaper article in question, "is only the latest in a set of mistakes set in motion and allowed to remain in motion by our original benefactors, the Ancients."

Forte somehow repressed a like-that-wasn't-obvious snort.

"They are doing this to punish Oma." And before anyone, human or otherwise, could jump in outrage, Wily had his hand up for silence. "Let me finish."

Dr. Cain put his bottle of whisky back in his lab coat pocket before returning with grumbled curses to his seat. The Russian Dr. Cossack looked no better, and it was a surprisingly even tie between Blues and Forte on who looked more prepared to throttle someone. Preferably several some ones if Roll's glare was any indication of her boyfriend's mood.

"Oma -- the majority of us have been occupied with other tasks recently, so here is her conviction in brief. Our kind Oma has allowed two beings to ascend recently – relatively speaking. Both of them descended within a year of their ascensions and each did so for their own reasons. However, since it was Oma who allowed them to rise in the first place, her fellows have decreed no action shall be taken to either assist or hinder these two beings. One of these two beings is a Dr. Daniel Jackson; a human anthropologist, gentle soul, and a true reformer. It's somewhat of a shame none of our group managed to meet him. We might have talked him into joining up with us crazy mad science types."

There was a less than subtle cough from Forte's direction, a hint to the Bioroid's sole creator to stop rambling and get on with it.

"Yes, well... The second of the two beings Oma helped ascend goes to prove that even the Ancients are fallible. Anubis, a Goa'uld System Lord, who Oma thought to be honestly reformed, has been forced to middle-ground status due to... Let me put it this way. Mix Forte's attitude with my general "Ruler of the World" position at the start of the first Robot Rebellion, and you have Anubis in a nutshell."

"Ouch," Blues whistled.

Rockman was the one to drive the spike home, adding, "And that's just when he was having a good day, huh?"

Dr. Wily sighed, "Yes, Rockman; and given how much knowledge he cannot be stripped of given his half-ascended status, every day appears to be a good day. Thomas?"

Dr. Light stood as well, the dead-serious scowl clashing with his otherwise jubilant features. "Through no fault of anyone within our company, and through no fault of Oma or her cluster of close associates, Anubis has learned of Reploid technology. Nothing more complex than how to build a fully functional Z-Class Buster, not yet, but he is actively integrating it into his soldiers' armories. In the time Dr. Wily and I have had between Rock's alarming report and our gathering here, I have been doing massive research via Dr. Wily's Mechaniloid spy system."

"Che," Dr. Wily snickered, "Be grateful one of our contract loopholes lets us build and send out insentient entities beyond the boarders of our little pocket of space. And that I still remembered those blasted plans." The German scientist buried his head in his hands. "Mein Got, if only I'd never used the teleportation device..."

Rockman gently patted his former nemesis on the back. "You could have never known the system would fry a bit of your brain, Dr. Wily."

"As much as I'd like to consol our colleague there," Dr. Cain cut in, "I'm more worried about what's got Dr. Light pissed." Because if Dr. Light was upset, then that meant X was in deep, deep trouble.

"What has me pissed, as you so eloquently put it Dr. Cain, is that Anubis was the one who broke Lumine's seal. And those blasted, self-centered, utter loons calling themselves Ancients, bloody _let him!_ Those bastard idiot fools ignored our warnings about what Lumine could do to the universe as a whole – and let Anubis break him free. Just. To get back. At Oma." It was with an effort that Dr. Light managed to calm himself enough to add, "And it is only by quick thinking on the parts of Skaara and his ilk that, beyond Anubis freeing Lumine, our own home world has escaped attention."

Bless their desert-born hearts, all of them. The moment they had caught wind of what Anubis could do with even the most basic Reploid tech at his disposal, they had acted. Moving quick as sand vipers, the former inhabitants of Abydos had done the equivalent of deleting Gia – Dr. Light and company's home world – from the master map of the universe all ascended beings used to get their bearings between the ascended plane and the mortal one. If a planet was not on the master map then it was not on _any_ map an Ancient could get a hold of. And with Gia off the map, off any known Stargate network, and undiscovered by space-traveling mortals, their planet was safe.

For now.

* * *

Tucked deep within the home base of the Tok'ra resistance, Colonel O'Neill asked the one question both he and his superiors had been dreading.

"So. Jacob. How bad was it?"

Jacob Carter, Major General of the United States Air Force turned Tok'ra Ambassador to Earth, released a long, exhausted sigh. "On the plus side, Jack, it could have been worse."

"On the not-so-plus side?" Jackson asked.

"On the not-so-plus side, Dr. Jackson, we've got two good men dead and no way to revive either of them _and_ a next gen Kull manufacturing plant about ready to kick into high gear." Jacob patted the bulky crate currently sitting on a space-age dolly, ready and waiting for transport. "Fortunately, Anise had just finished modifying an Al'kesh for stealth work and needed a crazy test-pilot when I came home with your request. Otherwise, we'd have none of this stuff."

"Wait a minute, dad, you said _two_ good soldiers." Sam granted her father an odd look.

"Were you unable to recover the third body?" Teal'c voiced SG-1's next question.

Once more, Jacob patted the travel ready crate. "What's in here should be able to answer that question. We cremated the two human bodies and sterilized everything else that we found just to be on the safe side. Anubis isn't a bio-weapon-friendly Goa'uld like Nirrti, but given how many rabbits he's pulled out of his hat recently, including this one, I _really_ didn't want to run the risk of sending anything non-Earth native back home."

"Good call. I think." O'Neill was now giving the crate a _look_. "What's in there?"

The crackle and hiss of emergency radios snapping to life cut Jacob off before he could answer.

"_We're under attack! Super Soldiers came out of bloody nowhere! 'Gate wasn't even open for longer than a second and...!_" Reports of gunfire echoed under the static-warn connection, words clear and furious despite the radio's distance induced crackle.

"_Dallas, n--!_"

At once, Jack was reaching for his radio. "SG-3, do you copy? SG-3, do you copy! Damn it, Makepeace, what's happening up there?"

Nothing but static answered.

"Well, _crap_." Jack pulled his always present hat off, ran a hand through his hair, then replaced his cap. "Daniel, help Carter and Carter make sure this thing is set for transport. Teal'c, with me. And if you don't mind loaning us a few of your Jaffa friends, Ambassador? I'd really like it if we could keep another team from getting massacred."

* * *

Taking what cover he could behind a sand dune, Colonel Makepeace took aim and fired, hoping to do at least a little damage to their enemies' armors. The odds were against his team, even with backup in the form of SG-1 on its way. SGC's flagship team had managed to pull miracles out of situations more desperate than this, or so Scuttlebutt said, but given that sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, Makepeace knew Colonel O'Neill wouldn't be able to save the day this time.

'Gate-guard duty had been going so well a handful of seconds ago. His team had done as ordered, Wily and Dallas securing the DHD while he and Thompson picked ideal guard posts just outside of 'Gate splash range. All four of them had set their packs down and gotten to work setting up camouflage tents to wait under – nothing fancier than a desert camou tarp suspended on four short poles just big enough to provide each individual a little bit of shade – when the ominous _click_ of a Stargate's ring coming to life caught their undivided attention.

"Damn," Thompson had muttered. "We've only been here ten minutes."

All four of his men, even Wily, had dropped where they were to make themselves as tiny a target as possible. The 'Gate had opened as it always did – with a beautiful, terrifying splash of white and blue which sprayed outward, an inverted waterfall, before being sucked back into the 'Gate to form a serine pool of liquid blue light. Ten flashes of off-white color shot out of the 'Gate the second it had finished stabilizing. And then, just like that, the 'Gate closed.

Thinking on how those ten off-white flashes had then grown and turned solid to become ten Super Soldiers reminded Makepeace in a weird way of his son's favorite kid show. Only instead of the good guys warping in, it'd been the Psycho Rangers on steroids.

Makepeace had done the only thing he could, then. While his team let into death itself with every bit of ordinance they had on hand, Makepeace grabbed his radio, and called for help.

"We're under attack! Super Soldiers came out of bloody nowhere! 'Gate wasn't even open for longer than a second and...!"

And Makepeace could only watch as the youngest Marine on the team utterly lost it.

"You fucking bastards!" Dallas shouted. Berserk, he pulled a naquadah-laced grenade, loosed the pin, and proceeded to play Superman-turned-Rambo. His own safety tossed to the wind, Dallas surged up from behind the dune he and Wily had been using to cover the DHD, charging forward with reckless abandon.

"Dallas, no!" Thompson tried to stop the insanity with words alone, already knowing it was too late. The poor kid was planning to make a martyr of himself in an effort to save the team, to avoid a repeat of Wallace's death...!

A Super Soldier, seeing nothing more than a target, took aim at the crazed Lance Corporal. Knowing he would fall before reaching the optimum detonation point, Dallas threw the grenade so that it landed between the three forward-most Soldiers and the spread-out seven-Soldier strong rearguard. Ignorant of the grenade, the Super Soldier drawing a bead on Dallas fired.

A wordless war cry cut out across the desert. Makepeace only had time to see Wily – and what the fuck was Wily doing out of full combat gear?! – charge up and over the dune and forward _past_ Dallas all inside a second, moving between Dallas and the freshly loosed shot. Later, after the dust had settled and he'd had a few drinks with his men to keep insanity at bay, Makepeace would come to realize Wily had been glowing when he'd made that fateful charge. Honest to heave above _glowing_.

Two explosions went off with around half a second's difference between each.

The first explosion was at, or at least bloody near, where Wily had charged in front of Dallas. This first one was nothing more than a brilliant burst of white energy. A soundless explosion of light coupled with a whimper of a shockwave, harmful only if looked at directly without the cover of sunshades.

The second explosion was the naquadah-laced grenade. That one, Makepeace had to duck and cover for.

The dust and ash kicked up by the naquadah-laced grenade was enough to choke a horse. Makepeace and Thompson kept their heads down and turned away, covering their faces as well as they could with whatever was available. Thompson had yanked his hat off and was using it to cover his mouth and nose instead of his hair. Makepeace, on the other hand, dropped closer to the sand, burying his face in his right elbow while his left arm kept his firearm out of the way.

"Oh my _god_..."

The whisper was barely there, but it was enough. Makepeace dared the remaining sand and looked up. Already, even though the explosion was only a second old, the dust was clearing, pushed away by a chill breeze which sent every hair on the back of both Marines' necks rising in fear.

Closest to where Dallas and then Wily had been standing were three silhouettes. The first figure to become clear was Dallas, the blast having kicked him off his feet and down onto his rump, his eyes wide as he looked at the figures before him. The kid didn't look hurt... But it was who – and what – was standing in front of Dallas which had rocked Thompson to the core.

Where Wily should have been standing was instead something completely different. A tall humanoid decked out in blood red and bone white armor stood with its arms cross in guard and feet apart for balance. The last remnants of smoke could be seen wafting off its rounded forearm armor. Green orbs glistened in harsh sunlight, one on each ankle and two adorning its chest. Adorning its head was a helmet crafted of red metal tapered to look like two sets of rising demon horns centered by white metal and outlined in gold trim. On the helmet's forehead was a blue gemstone shaped like an inverted pyramid. And in the very back of the helmet, located at the base of the humanoid's skull, was a round hole just large enough to allow a fountain of blond hair to fall downwards into a ponytail long enough to reach the humanoid's ankles.

But it was the unmistakable form of Alex "Axl" Wallace in a black hooded robe and carrying a bone-white energy scythe standing between Dallas and the armored humanoid which sent Makepeace's jaw falling towards sand.

A white gloved hand lifted from the folds of his black robe. Lifted and, with feather-like delicacy, brushed across the blonde's armored shoulder, dusting settled sand from it. Alex "Axl" Wallace leaned forward so that his lips were even with the armored blonde's helmet covered ear. The being with Wallace's face dressed in Death's garbs whispered something – his lips moved, but the words were so quite no one else but the armored blonde could hear. The words of an angel granting a demon leave to take its tithe of blood.

The ghost vanished in a flutter of black.

The red and white armored warrior reached back over his right shoulder. White gloved hand incased in blood armor closed around a handle of some sort. There was a sound of an electric clank reminiscent of an industrial strength magnet being pried loose from a sheet of metal. The handle came loose of whatever held it with ease and came to be held horizontally before the blood armored warrior. The softest of soft clicks could be heard, a hidden button being depressed.

Green light snapped outward from one end of the handle, jumping across his chest and solidifying into a single blade of ethereal green energy. Colonel O'Neill, if he had been there to see it, might have quipped about Yoda calling, wanting his light-saber back. To Colonel Makepeace, the iridescent green blade looked like death incarnate.

The first of the Super Soldiers to recover from Dallas's grenade staggered to its feet. It raised its upgraded weapon, the muzzle of the thing already glowing with golden death. Faster than its comrade had in shooting Dallas, the first Soldier on its feet let off a quick half-powered blast.

The armored blonde batted the blast aside with a lazy strike of his saber, treating the amber death-orb as nothing more than a tennis ball. The shot struck home in the face of a second Soldier just gaining its bearings. It crumpled, helmet shattered, like so much silly putty.

Everything after that was pure blur.

Two bursts of fire ignited on the underside of the blonde's feet, two dash thrusters propelling him forward like a bullet. The first Soldier, the one who had fired off first, found itself missing a head with a casual blade stroke. Twisting with that same stroke, blonde danced out of the line of fire from the third Solders. The fourth and fifth tried pinning him in a crossfire – the armored blonde jumped upwards, effortlessly dodging their shots. The dash thrusters kicked in again at the crest of his jump, propelling him even higher. Another wordless shout cut across the desert, the red and white armored blonde's battle cry. Spinning one full vertical circle looking so much like a hedgehog with blond and green quills curled into a tight ball, he fell back to earth, his blade using the spin and gravity to split the sixth Soldier in half.

One of the now seven –

A Super Soldier released a liquid scream when the blonde's saber cut it in half horizontally –

Make that one of the remaining six had realized there was less threatening prey than the blonde available. Makepeace managed to tare his eyes away from the green and blond and bloody dance to catch sight of that unlucky Soldier using chaos as cover to get closer to the still stunned Dallas.

"Cover fire!"

Makepeace's thunderous command was enough to knock his unit back to their senses. Thompson and Dallas both ripped their eyes off the blonde dodging and killing and dancing in death long enough to grab their respective weapons and fire at the advancing Super Soldier. The bullets themselves did nothing more than distract it – but it was enough of a distraction for the blonde to slip behind it and cleave the thing in two.

"Pick a target and concentrate fire!" Makepeace roared over the sounds of Super Soldier death keels. Damn if he was going to let the blonde do all the work!

In short order, with Makepeace, Thompson, and Dallas's firepower acting as a booming distraction, the blonde in red armor was left with only a single living adversary.

The blood armored warrior removed the last Soldier's head in a single cold slice, stilling its twitching. Panting with exhaustion, he – it – looked up from his work, looking towards Makepeace, Thompson, and Dallas. The Colonel and Major were flaking Dallas on either side, the trio secured as well as they could be behind a makeshift dune. All three of their guns locked in on the blonde – just because it/he had taken out the Soldiers didn't mean it/he was an ally.

Another silent click and the green death blade fell back into the hilt. The blood covered warrior moved deliberately, slowly returning the mundane-looking hilt/handle to its slot on the backpack-like object on his back. Blue eyes regarded their weapons with cool disdain.

"And here I thought Marines were more civilized towards civis."

Makepeace would not let his jaw drop again. Not with the lethal weapon who'd so casually been slaughtering Super Soldiers less than a moment ago staring at him. Staring at him the same way he'd once seen Wily stare at Wallace when the kid had been about to do something top-grade idiotic with a pair of homemade hand grenades and O'Neill's locker.

Wait... The same kind of look as Wily?

Thompson's brow furled in confusion. If he were to take away the armor then, strangely enough, the blonde would look like... "Wily?"

"Yeah," the armored blonde sighed. Resting a hand against his helmeted temple, the armored blonde added, "But my name's not Wily. It's Zero."

"Zero, huh?" Makepeace shifted his weapon to take better aim. "So what are you? Some kind of next generation Super Solider sent by Anubis to crash the SGC's party?"

"If only things were that simple," Zero grumbled.

"Zero doesn't work for Anubis," a voice whispered out of memory.

Later on, Makepeace would congratulate both himself and Thompson for clamping down on the instinct to shoot first and ask questions later as a twisted shimmer of gold and black appeared between Zero and SG-3. The shimmer flickered once, then blinked into physical existence.

"...Axl..." Zero's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Wallace!" Dallas half shouted, half cried, his weapon swinging loose in his grip.

Axl-Death stood between the three Marines of SG-3 and the armored blonde named Zero. Both of his hands were clasped together in front of him, making him look like an odd rendition of Death begging for pardon.

"Please, Colonel Makepeace, Major Thompson, Lance Corporal Dallas..." Light green eyes caught and held each gaze in turn. "Please," Axl pleaded, "don't tell Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter or... or anyone about Zero. At least not for a little while." Makepeace moved to object, only to be cut off by Axl adding, "I know you have to eventually. But for right now, please... Please, let Zero switch back into SG uniform, let him cover his tracks. If you don't, then Major Carter will do the same thing to Zero that Anise did to me. Only Major Carter won't realize she's doing anything wrong because of what Zero is in body. But he's alive, like me, and he doesn't deserve that kind of fate. Please... _Please..._"

There was silence for a beat, then two. "Damn it," Thompson whispered, lowering his firearm. "Sorry, sir, but I'm not dumb enough to ignore a _pouting_ dead guy."

Makepeace lowered his own weapon. "Neither am I." The colonel pinned the visiting ghost under a cutting glare. "We're putting our necks on the line for your friend here, Wallace. Keeping his butt intact had better be damn important."

"Oh, right," Zero crossed his arms in a sarcastic snort. "Let's forget all about the fact I just single handedly saved your collective asses."

"Zero – hurry!" Axl implored his still living mentor.

"I _can't_ hurry, oh figment of my overworked imagination." At the demanding glare from his student's shade, Zero added under his breath, "I forgot to fully charge the armor unit."

Axl-Death openly stared at the punk blonde. Slowly, his hands clenched into tight fists, and a growl of frustrated anger escaped his snarling lips. "...Zero... You are an _idiot_!"

Axl-Death lifted a single hand upwards. Black and gold light flashed outward in a blast of energy. And then – nothingness, as conscious thought went dark.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 11_

* * *

Reality returned with aching slowness. Every inch of his body from his foot to his head throbbed, feeling a lot like the tingle of waking up a limb after blood deprivation had driven it to sleep – only all over. The only part which didn't tingle was his left arm. In specific, that one little part on the inside of his elbow which doctors loved to stick needles into. Cautious, he opened his eyes.

"Gah."

And regretted it at once when florescent light, softer than normal but still far too bright to his still waking senses, burned his eyes from above.

A human figure moved forward to blot out the light. "Easy, Colonel Makepeace," the voice belonging to what a great majority of SGC believed was an angel spoke in soft, soothing tones.

Colonel Robert Makepeace, United States Marine Corps and current head of SG-3, bit back half formed cusses that would have had his Drill Sergeant putting him on latrine duty for a week. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was propped up in a cot located within the small segment of Dr. Fraiser's medical ward which had been delegated to one Honorary Dr. Xavier Light.

The familiar plastic of a straw touched his lips just as he was beginning to realize how thirsty he was. Grateful, he sucked down a gulp of water, the one arm not protesting about having an IV needle in it attempting, and failing with shaking results, to steady the water's source. Gentle hands steadied his grip, holding the water bottle and its attached straw in range long enough for Makepeace to quench his thirst.

"My men?" Makepeace demanded around a dry cough.

"Dallas has a few shrapnel wounds, and all of you are suffering from mild dehydration, but that's it," the good honorary doctor assured him, putting the water bottle aside. "Given how your team was found, however, Dr. Fraiser has ordered overnight surveillance. Barring an unforeseen change in your conditions, your team will be placed on light duty for the remainder of the week."

"Light duty?"

"No off-world missions, and the worst you'll be dealing with planet-side is 'Gate guard." The sparkle in green eyes didn't quite match the quirk of a smirk pulling at Dr. Light's lips. "But then given how Zero is on your team, that really won't be a problem. Stressful, maybe, what with Zero's sense of humor and all. But difficult in the event of a 'Gate breach?" Dr. Light snorted back a dark chuckle. "I'd feel sorry for the other guy if it weren't for the fact the _other guy_ is a snake-eating bastard."

Zero...?

Memory of a blond in blood covered armor who'd just finished turning ten Super Soldiers into so much sashimi returned with a bang, making Makepeace stiffen. No way could Light have known Wily's other name, he hadn't been there. Unless Light had known from the very start...

Makepeace took in the saving angel of SGC medical with new eyes, wishing nigh desperately for a firearm of some variety.

Honorary Dr. Light pulled a tall bottle of beer out from behind him. Set it down with deliberate intent on the swing-around table at chest height. A flick of the thumb and the soft hiss of the beer cap come loose made Makepeace blink.

"I think," Dr. Light – if that even was his name – spoke with professional calm smothering an otherwise inaudible note of fear, "you're going to want one of these."

* * *

General Gorge Hammond regarded the report in front of him with the same look he had once given his 2IC after the colonel had explained what had happened to Abydos. The first time O'Neill had tried to explain that galaxy-sized snafu, General Hammond had sent him straight to Major-Dr. Fraiser for yet another neurotox screening.

"I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts, Gorge, but it looks like you could use more than chump change," Jacob Carter noted with a slight twist of sarcasm.

Hammond put the reports down before he strangled them. At least this time, instead of having a whole team killed by the mystery upgraded Kull Warriors, they were alive. Unconscious in Dr. Fraiser's tender care, but alive nonetheless.

"This is getting ridiculous, Jacob," General Hammond sighed.

"Tell me something I don't know," Jacob countered with his own sigh. "I don't get it, George. Anubis should not have known our 'Gate address. None of our spies inside his ranks know that particular address given how the whole base was basically one giant science lab for Anise, Freya, and the other scientists."

A whole science lab which was currently undergoing the organized chaos of mass evacuation and relocation. Ah, how he envied their fellow Tok'ra... Not.

_Don't snicker,_ Selmak poked him. _If they do not act quick enough..._

A few of Anise's tech toys getting into the hands of Anubis... The thought made Jacob pale. He'd seen the reports on what some of Anise's toys could do if the bugs were ever worked out of them. If it weren't for the severity of his current mission, Jacob would be right there alongside the moving crew with zat in hand to make sure there weren't even enough leftover bits and pieces to put together a toaster.

But it was another thought which made Hammond all the more nervous.

"Jacob. According to Colonel O'Neill's report, those Soldiers had been dealt with by time he, Teal'c, and Tok'ra security had arrived." And SG-3 had been out cold for who knew how long. Not a good thing. At all.

"None of the members of SG-3 are zatarc, General." The odd megaphone-esque voice Selmak used to help distinguish between herself and her host broke Hammond's troubled train of thought. "Dr. Fraiser and I tested all four members with Major Carter's sensing device. As the device in question is still in the testing stages, if you would like, I can arrange for Anise and Freya to conduct a more through scan with their zatarc detector."

"With all due respect, Ambassador, I believe we've had enough of Tok'ra charity to last us quite a while," Hammond said, his voice tactfully neutral, and his thoughts dancing around the single crate his major and lead first-contact specialist had drug through the Stargate. And the horrific discovery therein which had almost made him loose his lunch.

Almost. Fortunately enough, the body strategically stuffed in pieces looked just fake enough to override the sense of _wrongness_ at seeing the robotic human mess inside.

"I told Anise not to pack the head on top, or to at least close its eyes." Jacob fought back a shudder, remembering all too well the terrified yelp of his daughter as she'd opened their package. He closed his eyes. Then, slowly, locked Hammond's gaze in his own. "George, we have a problem."

"Aside from these new Super Soldiers?" Hammond asked, deliberately letting the topic of the crate drop.

"Including them," Jacob replied. "Somehow, some way, the address of one of our more secure basses was leaked to Anubis. And the Council is _not_ happy about it. Selmak and I have been asked," which was the polite way of saying they had been ordered, "to investigate the possibility of a spy within the SGC."

And the day, as they say, was looking better by the minute.

* * *

One beer alone was _so_ not going to cut it.

Wily had come walking in around the same time Dr. Light had popped open Makepeace's beer. The blond had brought with him two more cold brews and had waited, patiently, between Dallas's and Thompson's respective hospital cots. Wily had exchanged some form of greeting with Dr. Light, whom he had called X, along with a short-hand site-rep giving the equivalent of an all clear.

After his fellow Marines were awake, Dr. Light had given a similar report about their basic diagnosis and helped them down a half a bottle of water each. Meanwhile, Wily casually popped the two beers, and set one down per Marine.

At which point their conversation turned from weird to downright bizarre.

"You're a _what_?" Dan Thompson, a major whom Makepeace had picked as SG-3 2IC due to his level head under weird fire, yelped in shock.

For their part, Dr. Light and Wily both refused to flinch. There'd been so much hurt in that single yelp.

"We're Reploids – no relation to Replicators," Wily clarified at SG-3's various looks of terror.

"The year for us is 21XX. Robotics have advanced beyond all conceived boundaries. The only thing now separating robots like ourselves from humans is that we're silicone-based and humans are carbon-based. Axl, Zero, and I arrived here on Earth in 2002 due to a mishap with an experimental teleportation unit," Dr. Light explained.

"You're not civilians at all... are you?"

Dr. Light shook his head, a soft and silent no answering Dallas's whispered question. "We're not civilian-grade Reploids," he confirmed with an ocean's depth of sadness darkening both tone and eyes. "Just like all things, Reploids are not free of error. Some Reploids, like some humans, have... emotional problems."

"Like psychotic problems," Wily cut in, voice humorless.

"And a psychotic Reploid would be a bad thing," Makepeace spoke the obvious, expression pale as the implications set in. Imagine: someone as strong as Zero set loose in the middle of downtown suburbia and with a psycho's tendency to slaughter everything in sight.

Not a pretty picture.

"The best way to fight fire is with fire – the same goes for Reploids. An international paramilitary group was organized to move against the rouge Reploid threat. Axl, Zero, and I are a part of that organization. We," Dr. Light gestured to himself and Wily with a flick of his hand, "are Maverick Hunters."

"A full international paramilitary ops?" At Wily's sharp nod affirmative, Thompson gulped. "_Damn_. How much of a problem are these rouges?"

"Truthfully?" Dr. Light sighed, depressed. "A bit worse than the NID. Both groups have to stay under the radar. Maverick definitions of 'under the radar,' however, vary from covert ops to obliterating a city."

A moment's hesitation. "You mean a city block, right?" Thompson dared to ask.

"No. X means a city. Like Colorado Springs."

Silence.

"..._Shit_..."

"Yep," Wily agreed, expression grim. "Our one bonus point is that Mavericks – the rouges – tend not to work well in groups larger than two or three. Occasionally, eight or so will ban together and try to take over the world. But that only happens once every two or so years."

More silence tinted now with an air of _oh shit, we're all gonna die_.

Rockman X released a long suffering sigh. And then promptly smacked Zero upside the head.

"What the hell was that for?!" Zero demanded, both hands clutching the back of his head.

"I'll take insensitive ass for two hundred, Dr. Light," Thompson quipped, a fine trace of a smirk pulling at his lips. Whatever they were, whatever their home world's background, they acted human, and at least one of their number had been human enough to ascend. They may not have been human in flesh, but they were close enough to count as human in Thompson's book.

"God, no wonder Wallace wanted to play videogames until he dropped," Dallas added on, his own voice sad but no longer depressed. "Your world sucks worse than ours!"

"And it'd suck even more if the NID managed to find it. Or get their hands on either of you." Makepeace drew the eyes of his two Marines, a silent measuring question. Slowly, he exhaled, releasing a tense breath into the still air. "Major Dan Thompson, Lance Corporal Scott Dallas." Both Marines snapped to attention as well as they could. "I am giving you both a direct order. No one outside this room is to know about Rockman X or Zero unless absolutely, apocalypse-pending, positively necessary. Is that clear?"

"Sir yes sir!"

And may Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond forgive him if they ever found out.

* * *

_**Elsewhere, in another place, in another time...**_

Dr. Cain pulled his flask out, granted himself a long swig of spirit, then returned the flask to its proper place.

"I think," he sad slowly, "for the sake of the one man in here without multiple PhDs in robotics and its sundry fields, we had better take a moment to explain what the _hell_ Lumine is. Because as I distinctly recall, when we caught him, that honest to heaven nut job was on his way up without any help from _any_ of us – which, with him being a Reploid and all, should _not_ have been possible!"

Dr. Cossack removed his glasses so as to polish them. "Not unless he was caught by our beloved loophole."

"You mean the loophole you used to get Rock, Roll, Blues, Forte, and the Robot Masters up here? The one I used to get Storm Eagle and my other Hunters up here? The loophole which clearly states that only those created by one of us directly could catch a free lift to ascension without one of our number going down there to pick them up despite the fact they were machines? That loophole?" At the various affirmative answers whispered from around the room, Dr. Cain pulled out his flask again, muttering under his breath something about wanting a pitcher of vodka.

It was only after Dr. Cain set his now empty flask down that he demanded, "How the bloody hell did Lumine managed to catch a lift with that particular loophole? I'm certain as hell I didn't build him. Dr. Light's and Dr. Wily's creations are all accounted for – at least all the dead ones. Dr. Cossack's bunch are here, too." The Russian scientist flinched, forcing Dr. Cain to add, "...Aren't they?"

"I, well," Dr. Cossack stammered. "I, that is... Well, it's difficult to explain..." It was with a meek, "Help?" that Dr. Cossack looked to Dr. Light.

"In my will, I left Dr. Cossack X's design schematics. I left also specific instructions for my good friend. If there was any part of the design he wished to tinker with, then by all means, he was to tinker with it." Dr. Light allowed himself a soft chuckle. "But to be honest, Isaac, I never thought you'd come up with something as remarkable as the Copy System for your two boys."

A multitude of yelps erupted around the table.

"Two?!" someone squawked.

"The Copy System was Isaac's idea?" Dr. Wily's yelp was unmistakable.

"Now, now, everyone, calm down." After what felt like another minute of random stammers of shock, Dr. Light turned to Blues. "Blues, would you be so kind?"

Two fingers pressed to his lips, Blues let loose with a whistle loud enough to make even poor Rush and Gospel, both of whom were on guard duty just outside the door, yowl in protest.

"Now that everyone's back to some semblance of order?" A group glare met Dr. Light's jovial-sounding inquiry. "As I was saying, it is also thanks to Dr. Cossack's brilliance that we have the Guardian Protocol and Failsafe in place."

"Wait, seriously?" Forte demanded, stunned. All the truly important innovations were supposed to have come from either Light or Wily, not from some out-of-nowhere third party scientist.

"Yes, seriously," Dr. Light replied deadpan. Turning back to their Russian compatriot, Dr. Light asked, "Isaac, if you would please?"

"Yes, well, if I must."

"You must," Dr. Cain glared.

Under threat of death-glare, Dr. Cossack stood from his seat. "As sad as it is to say this, yes, I did build Lumine. As to what happened to him, to what drove him to madness, to his despise of humanity – I find I must apologize for that as well. I thought in my ignorance that I had designed a foolproof failsafe to keep them sane. I am, sorry... So, so sorry that it did not.

"Using the design for X that Dr. Light so graciously provided me after his demise, I built two Reploids. One as you know was Lumine. The other... is Axl."

* * *

Cold, light, surrounded by darkness. There floating in iridescent form was a humanoid figure curled in on itself, its black robe mimicking the darkness around it.

Why was he out here now? Here, floating out alone in space, hovering in orbit around a blue-green planet. It was a lovely planet made all the more beautiful by the two flairs of color glistening with warmth and hope and love. One was colored a deep wondrous blue with feelings of compassion and kindness as deep as an ocean abyss. The other was a violent red which spoke of blood and death and yet was kind. Oh so kind and gentle to those whom it called its own.

The two colors were linked to him and he to them in an intricate balanced web. The two colors kept him there, stopped him from going higher still. Stop him from leaving them behind.

Interwoven with those colored pillars of emotion, interwoven with himself, was another thing all together. It wasn't quite a person, a being to be labeled a 'he' or a 'she'. It was sentient and had a form, but that form was not fixed. Not specific.

But it was fractured. This other thing which wove itself between he and they felt broken, jagged. He was unafraid of the jagged thing because it alone had been the only thing to comfort him when he had first awoken to nothingness. The fractured thing had spoken to him, had helped him remember enough of himself long enough to go and visit the glorious dual colors in person.

He had asked the broken loop once what its name was. The answer had been simple, if not confusing. "_I am the Guardian,_" it whispered. "_I am the Guardian and Failsafe of my charges. Your keeper and protector. Trust in me, my charge, for I am thy shield against oblivion._"

Thinking of the dual colors made him whisper in longing. He wanted to go and see them again. They each in their own way had been so happy to see him.

"_Hold a little longer, my charge,_" the fractured and broken thing whispered. "_Soon help will be here and the damage will be repaired._"

Damage...? Ah. The broken loop he felt inside the weave connecting him to them and them to him spoke of itself. The fractured loop which spoke to him and helped him stay with the glorious lights below – ah, he owed it so much. So then to stay and hold and drink in the beauty that was the Earth, he could do. Would do.

"_Hold a little longer, Axl, my charge_," the interwoven feeling whispered at him, speaking his name so that he would not forget it.

Soon things would be alright again. Axl held onto that conviction as tight as he could. Soon, things _would_ be alright again.

* * *

_**Elsewhere, in another place, in another time...**_

The room was deathly quiet. Even Dr. Light had never heard the full story of Dr. Cossack's last – and greatest – creations.

"I built them carefully, cautiously. I modified their designs to implement a device I had only recently worked the errors out of. I called it a 'Mater Transverse Copy Matrix', or the Copy System for short. It would allow a body of a given mass to shape itself completely into another body in a matter of microseconds. Dependent on what excess mass would be available from, say, dust particles or loose bits of metal lying about, the target transformation could be as small as a puppy, or as large as a house. It was truly an ingenious piece of technology...

"But it was dangerous. I had no way of knowing what, if any, mental side effects the Copy System would inflict upon my children. And so," Dr. Cossack shrugged once, limply, "I built a failsafe to be activated at the same moment my children were. Presuming, that is, if they even passed the hundred and fifty year gambit of automated tests their status tubes would put them through."

"Isn't a hundred and fifty years a bit of overkill?" Dr. Cain inquired. After all, X had only needed a hundred.

"No. Not when you take into account the _other_ bit of tinkering I did in regards to the fail-safe's programming."

"Which is?" Roll asked.

"The basic template for the Guardian Program as we know it today," Dr. Cossack sighed. "It was a two part loop program that would run in the background of both Reploid's programming. The first part would constantly check that there were no viruses running amuck in their programming, that they were obeying the Three Laws, and subliminally steer them towards X insofar as being a role model. After all, X would have been awake for fifty years longer than Lumine and Axl would have and thus be the ideal teacher.

"Part two of the loop program would be to check part one and insure things were still running smoothly. As a redundancy measure, the two parts of the program were to constantly check one another regardless of location. That is, the failsafe program inside Lumine's network would check the failsafe program inside Axl's network and vice versa. That way, even if the failsafe became corrupted inside – for example, let us say Axl -- Lumine's failsafe could find and would fix the problem."

"Something busted, then," Forte tactlessly pointed out the obvious. At once, Roll slapped him upside the head, death-glaring him to silence.

"Something busted indeed," Dr. Cossack replied, expression grim. "Lumine awoke before Axl. A good _twenty years_ before Axl. By the time Axl was awakened via Red and his savvy crew, it was already too late. The Lumine I would have happily called son was far too gone, the damage done beyond any hope of repair even through Axl's failsafe copy, and I had no way to save him."

"But you had a way to save Axl," Dr. Wily cut in. "_That's_ why you brought up the Guardian Protocol with me. You and Light, you two conspirators – you got together behind my back and fixed the fatal flaw in that failsafe program!"

"That we did," Dr. Light replied. "Not only was it a positive reinforcement to your attempt at disabling the berserker programming and giving Zero a chance at a normal life, it also nullified the Zero Virus. At least insofar as allowing it to spread."

"Because the background AI has full jurisdiction to use whatever it could in Zero, X, and Axl's systems to do whatever it had to, to stop any form of program degradation. Up to and including shutting down parts of coding." Dr. Wily sat back in his chair with an exhaled, "Whomph."

Dr. Cain sat silent in his chair for quite a while. Not too far in the near future, he would be able to rectify his mistake of having downed every last drop of alcohol in his flask by curling up with a jug of moonshine. But for now, he had to live with sobriety.

"Let me see if I've got this straight. The Guardian Program and Failsafe which is currently holding Zero's, X's, and Axl's joint sanity together via a three way telepathic circuit," and boy hadn't that been an Ancient trick to throw in there, "resulted from Dr. Cossack messing with X's blueprints."

"Yes," Dr. Cossack admitted.

"That same program is sentient and sane in and of itself because of its need to keep X, Zero, and Axl from loosing their marbles due to any form of interference, be it as mundane as a mad scientist cracking open a skull or two, or something as destructive as a Maverick virus strain."

"If I followed what dad and Dr. Cossack were saying during design and install, then yep," Blues agreed. It had been such a fun little jaunt with Dr. Light, Dr. Wily, and Dr. Cossack a year or so ago. Sneaking past Ancient doormen to get down to the mortal plane had been entertaining. True, seeing what Axl looked like after Lumine had tentacle whipped him but good had brought to mind some of his scarier forays into in-depth internet culture... But it really had been a fun trip. He'd gotten to see X, after all. Any trip was a good one so long as he got to see his littlest sibling safe and sound.

"...And Axl is Cossack's only living relative of robotic nature that we know of."

"Which leaves us one Lumine-sized problem," Roll summed up.

There was another long bout of silence.

"Alright," Dr. Cain got to his feet. "I, for one, need a drink. Otherwise I'm going to be too sober to help think up some kind of counter-strategy to whatever the hell Lumine and that half-descended nut job Anubis are cooking up. Cossack, my friend, how about we go break out that keg of Russian vodka your good ol' boy Ringman managed to brew up?"

"And while you're getting drunk, Thomas and I will see if Oma is available to chat," Dr. Wily explained, also standing.

"Blues and I will try and get a hold of Skarra," Rock volunteered. "Maybe he's got some information Oma doesn't?"

"I'm going to go make sure they get back here," was Roll's excuse as she dashed out the door.

"And I'm going to be a good boy for once and give my girlfriend a hand." With his creator giving him a look of utter disbelief, Forte dashed after Roll.

Soon enough, the room was empty save for Dr. Light and Dr. Wily.

"Thomas?"

"Hum?" Dr. Light replied, already half distracted with a handheld communications unit of some type.

"Do you ever get the feeling all hell is about to break loose?"

"When it comes to situations like this, Albert," Dr. Light looked up from his tinkering, his expression dour, "All hell has already broken loose. The only thing we can do now is circle the wagons, so to speak, and ride out the storm as best as we are able."

Dr. Wily gave his long-time friend a long, measuring look.

"I hate it when you're right."

With that, Dr. Wily got to work.


	12. Chapter 12

So I've got a plot. And a subplot. ...Time to add Axl to the list of "Guys Who Never Stay Dead".

Disclaimer: I own nothing save the plot. Anything mentioned in here belongs to their respective owners, none of whom are me, myself, or I.

Notice: I blame the tardiness of this chapter on school work. Furthermore, there is only one more chapter after this before SSRA:Remixed is going on hiatus. The muse is still in hiding, sad enough. Anyway. On to the story!

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Remixed Chapter 12: Revival_

* * *

Sweeping through channels considered beyond top secret was both easier and harder than it sounded. With the right equipment at hand, hacking through just about any firewall, no matter how complex, could be as easy as one, two, three. The difficult part is hiding the trail left behind. Pound and pound all a hacker may like, any information dug up would be moot if it were recovered by a physical recovery team. The hacker gathering data had to be as subtle as his or her viral programs insofar as sneaking out of trouble.

In this case, law-wielding trouble. Even if those laws were unknown by the public at large, they were still laws with hefty jail times attached.

Looking like any other nerd hunting down term paper research while in reality hacking into 'rouge' operational sections of a certain top secret government organization also fell under the category of both easy and difficult. The easy part was gathering a disguise. The hard part was implementing said disguise... especially when it required looking like a nerd. This meant glasses held together by white tape, a pocket protector, trousers, and a plaid button-down shirt. Plaid. Not cream or beige or even red. But _plaid_. And oh, what he'd been forced to do to his hair!

Zero fought back a un-nerd-like sob. His poor, poor hair... had been dyed black. Temporary hair dye, thank Cain, but dye nonetheless. Split ends would be trailing him for months now. Maybe, if he was lucky, the dye would wreak no more havoc than that. Maybe, if he used enough cream rinse after getting all the dye out, he would be able to salvage his precious mane's luster. Maybe. If not...

Then those NID bastards were going to die. Human or not, he'd make sure every last one met a slow, painful, _un_pleasant end. And if the colonel behaved himself, Zero might even let O'Neill join in on the fun. After all, if these records about Mini Jack were accurate, then the NID was in for a world of hurt. Oh, they hadn't been stupid enough to try and take the Loki-created mini-version of Colonel O'Neill (yet), but they had been keeping a closer than comforting eye on him.

A few swift key strokes and Zero's revenge against the NID Part the First was put into action. Zero could hear the hapless NID tech lackey now: Reports about Mini Jack, sir? What reports? And who, oh who, was this Cassandra person? No reports about her either, sir.

At least not on the NID's mainframe. Not anymore. Nope. Those files were now property of one S-Ranked Red Hunter with Attitude.

Uh-oh. Official looking guy at twelve o'clock, heading right for him. Cover was blown network-wise, then.

Zero's fingers flew over the keys, pressing just hard enough to register without making obscene amounts of clatter. One password and a handful of aborted programs later, and Zero was pulling out his external memory drive. He shuffled and sputtered a bit, pushing up his glasses in-between gathering his spread of notepaper and reference books. And, like any nerd sensing the approach of an uber-powerful bully, Zero slinked back to the safety of the musty old history tomes.

And ran face to face with Major Samantha Carter of SG-1, and her archeological associate of interplanetary fame.

Zero couldn't help himself. "Dr. Jackson, I presume?"

Their expressions of shock were too much, and Zero found himself bighting back snickers. Quickly, those snickers stopped, his expression turned serious in an instant. Silent as a predator, he grabbed both Dr. Jackson and Major Carter and, quietly, manhandled them deeper into the stacks.

One NID goon looked down their aisle, and was greeted to nothing more than a long black haired nerd in uncoordinated plaid and trousers halfway up a ladder in an attempt to reach an oversized book on the very top of the library's gargantuan stacks. The nerd looked at ex-jock-turned-pro-bully, and was looked at in turn. An awkward moment of silence past between the two – a moment made all the more odd by the nerd offering a nervous wave hello.

The moment ended when the pro-bully turned and left, pretending he'd never seen the nerd. The guy was just too weird even for a member of the NID to handle.

Zero slipped down the ladder, landing with a padded mouse-quiet thump on carpet. Major Carter and Dr. Jackson looked out from around the back end of the bookshelf, checking cautiously that everything was all clear.

"Well," Zero regarded the duo, "I figured my attacks were getting through with too much ease. No way, I thought to myself, could the security on the NID main database be so pathetic that even a base Trojan could get in."

"It was you?" Sam gapped at the blond-turned-raven. "But how? I couldn't even breach their fifth firewall!"

"Oh, but you did get through, ma'am. I rode your program all the way through. I thought it was a secondary buffer, too, at first. But then I checked the trash data and found out that dumpster diving really is the fastest way through the back door."

Sam buried her face in her hand. Watching the tech banter from afar, Daniel added in, "So I take it whoever programmed the NID mainframe watched Hackers a few too many times?"

"Just a few," Zero quipped. Lazy like a fat cat, Zero held up his external memory stick. "So... Want to head home and compare notes?"

"Zackary Wily. As third in command of SGC, I am tempted to either hug you or order you thrown in the brig for what you claim to have done."

Zero flashed the blushing astrophysics major one of his trademark fan-girl melting smiles. "Claim nothing, Major. And you're just as guilty as I for hacking an," and here Zero stage coughed, "ally's network."

"I had orders," Major Carter countered.

"And I am a private citizen working in the interest of my family, friends, and country at large. Besides, if the password lock on the data encrypted here is not entered correctly the first time, the program will presume it and its accompanying data are in the hands of the enemy and self destruct. And then wipe itself over and self destruct again. Rinse, repeat, a good two hundred times. So I'll ask again." Zero's expression was all tease. "Ma'am, would you like to accompany me back to home base? I assure you it'll be a fun slide show even without the typical internet porn."

As Major Carter reluctantly agreed, Zero smiled. _Thank you, _thank_ you, Layer, you nutcase of a Spotter you, for thinking up that failsafe! And then programming it. Wow... Note to self: Take Layer out for a drink as a much belayed thank you present first thing when you get back home._

When.

Zero still hung to that word and all its connotations. Strange, but the matter of X and himself...and Axl...getting back home had never been a question of _if_. It had always been a matter of _when_.

When. Never if. But _when_. And always, as the thoughts of home crept up on him, so too did the feeling that all three of them – Zero, X, _and_ Axl -- were going to go home together.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Dr. Jackson asked, voice soft.

Zero shook himself from darker thoughts. "Sorry. It's just – the trick I used to get in behind Major Carter's opening attack? Alex was the one who taught it to me."

Dr. Jackson offered no verbal sympathy. The look in his eyes told all that needed to be said and then some. That single look was enough to comfort Zero, even though the Red Hunter knew nothing past reputation regarding the archeologist.

"We ought to go drinking sometime," Zero spoke the thought aloud before rational thought could stop him.

"You, me, Jack, Sam, Murray, your friend Dr. Light, the rest of SG-3, and Janet if the fates allow, all out at once, in a pub?" Dr. Jackson bit back laughter at the very thought. "It wouldn't be a dull evening."

"Nope," Zero agreed.

"Let me see if I can talk Jack into it, and we'll see."

It was more than Zero thought he might get. A great deal more – and, oddly, it was a welcoming bit of news.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the bit of his heart where a piece of Axl had taken up residence, a ghost smiled. This would be a good thing if they could swing it. Zero needed more friends – friends he wouldn't have to kick himself in the ponytail-covered ass worrying about protecting. Yes. This would be a good thing indeed.

* * *

Two hundred and ninety three pretty glimmers. Two hundred and ninety four pretty glimmers. Two hundred and ninety five pretty glimmers. Two hundred and – wait.

Something was moving in the darkness. Something twisted and black, a beacon of silver light flickering between star two hundred and thirty (or was that star one hundred and forty two?) and the beautiful blue planet which housed the red and blue lights. The silver and black twisted thing shimmered down onto the same continent as the red and blue lights. Then, it vanished, hiding itself among the tiny little multicolored not-special lights, among the people-who-weren't-red-and-blue.

"_Be still, my charge._"

But the twisted light...

"_It is what you could have been, Axl, my charge, had it not been for X and Zero, and myself._"

"It isn't right!" he wailed to the cosmos at large. Whatever that twisted light was, it wasn't _right_, and it was going to hurt his red and his blue, he knew it!

"_No, it is not right._" The broken and fractured thing did its best to sooth him. "_But you must hold a little longer, Axl. My summons is such they cannot ignore it._"

"They?"

"_They, my charge. The ones who can repair the damage done._"

He thought of trying to argue with the broken thing, of trying to demand it help him find and stop the twisted evil light before it could do harm to his red or his blue. Yet before he could ask the question in any form, another something moved.

This something was a different something. It was large, metallic, and manned by only a few shimmering grey lights. It was so big and beautiful it looked to have a thousand stars all to itself. Axl watched, spellbound, as the beautiful metal thing – ship, had to be a starship – moved so that its bow was even with were he floated.

"_At last_," the broken and fractured thing whispered, relieved, "_The Asgard have come._"

* * *

Getting back to SGC was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Since the NID had yet to give up scouring the library for their hacker, the trio had decided to stagger their escapes. Daniel and Sam took their time checking out an armful of books on a hodgepodge of ancient civilizations and then left first. Zero, meanwhile, acted like a nerd and started copying notes for his research paper, distracting the NID by confusing them for librarians.

Five or so minutes later, and Zero was making a quick escape himself. The NID goons whom he had pestered oh so well looked relieved when he at last withdrew.

Much as he disliked to, Zero bypassed the shower rooms, instead heading straight back towards Major Carter's lab. The information he had needed to get up through SGC command and back to Janet now, if not yesterday. Someone in the NID was eyeing Cassie for some type of nasty situation. If they moved quickly, if they got X into position swiftly enough, if they could at least keep Dr. Fraiser's daughter out of the line of fire. If. If. If.

Zero was beginning to hate the word _if_ with a new passion.

"Okay, so, here...!" Zero walked into Major Carter's workroom. And stopped.

It was at the same time Zackary Wily stepped into her workroom that Samantha remembered the 'present' her father had left behind. The 'present' she had been working on reassembling involving one humanoid robot who looked an awful lot like Wily's dead friend.

Zackary dropped the external memory stick he had been waving about gleefully, allowing it to fall like so much pointless trash. Blue eyes stared wide in shock, pain, a myriad of violent emotions, before narrowing in tight beams to glare the workshop's owner into oblivion. It took just about everything Sam had plus Daniel moving to intercept Wily's glare to keep Carter from calling security and zatting Wily, not necessarily in that order. The guy was _scary_.

"This isn't what it looks like, Zackary," Daniel began, only to fall silent as the death glare grew in intensity.

"He was in the Tok'ra crate, wasn't he?" When the two stood silent, Zackary barked in a voice which would have put Drill Sergeants to shame, "Answer me!"

"Yes he was," Daniel blurted, "But it's not what you think."

"What I _think_ is that you asked the Tok'ra to recover those who had fallen on P4X-666 – because the dead deserve to be honored. I _think_ Anise got a little grabby when she got a hold of Axl. I _think_ you should have fucking _told us_ you had him _two days ago_ when you opened the damn crate. Damn it, Major Carter! Axl deserves better than this!"

There was such fury in his voice both Sam and Daniel took an involuntary step back. Taking that as his cue, Zackary "Zero" Wily thundered forward, bypassing the astrophysicist and archeologist and heading straight for the partially reassembled body. Zackary placed one hand over his right ear. One of Sam's many machines beeped in protest at the same time Zackary spoke to thin air.

"Zero to X." There was silence for a moment. The machine beeped again as 'Zero' spoke once more, "Screw radio silence, X. Bring his armor up here. They've got Axl in Carter's lab." Another pause. "They're Marines, X, they can handle themselves. Axl... They've got him in _pieces_, X." There was a longer pause followed by, "Disassembly from top to bottom. Arms, legs, wrists, head, nothing's attached anymore. All twenty digits have been removed. Major Carter started trying to piece him back together, but..." Silence. "Inside of ten? Roger. Zero, out."

"Internal radio," Carter whispered, torn between professional curiosity and raw concern. "You're a robot, like Alex."

"Reploid," Zero countered. "I... We're Reploids, not robots. Full autonomy and emotions, same as you, or Dr. Jackson, or any other human you can think of."

"Full autonomy _and _emotions? But how? Who built you?" _And why?_

Another cutting glare from Zero silenced Major Carter mid ramble. "No questions. Not now." And maybe, that glare promised, not ever.

Silence fell over the lab, broken only by Zero maneuvering different pieces back into proper place. Metal slotting back into place with a dead click at last drove Daniel to ask, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"With all due respect, Dr. Jackson? You can stay out of our way."

The two members of SG-1 turned to find Honorary Dr. Light standing in the doorway. Tucked under his arm was a metallic discus about a quarter, maybe half of X's height which could have doubled as a UFO prop. Green eyes moved over each person in turn before settling on the dismembered Axl. If the emotion grief could be given physical form, Daniel thought, it would be Dr. Light's expression.

Swiftly, the expression was masked with calm determination. X moved through the workshop, bypassing Sam and Daniel and heading straight for Zero, and pausing only long enough to put the discus down.

"Resist the urge to touch this, if you would please, Major Carter," X noted in passing.

Standing back, Carter did her best to dissect the discus with her eyes alone. "What is it?"

Without looking up from his work, Zero began to say, "An ar--," only to be cut off by the tell-tale white shimmer of an Asgard teleportation beam.

Carter and Dr. Jackson stood side by side for a moment, taking care to note that Major Carter's lab was now short one blond-turned-raven-haired humanoid, one honorary doctor, one disassembled body, and one odd discus.

"...Do you want to call Jack or should I?"

* * *

"—mor pod." Zero finished his sentence, heedless for all of a moment of his sudden displacement.

Slowly, he curled his now empty hands into fists, noticing with a certain amount of anger that Axl's broken body was no longer right in front of him. Looking up, he caught X's emerald eyes – eyes all but glowing in livid anger. Moving in unison, the duo turned, Zero's blond-turned-raven hair striking out behind him like an annoyed panther's tail.

Both X and Zero had their mouths open, demands for Axl's body to be returned ready to fly. Only to stop, jaws somewhat agape, to see Axl's repaired and fully armored body reclining inside a basic recharge pod. A little grey alien with a bulbous head acting as counterpoint to stick-like arms and torso sat behind a command chair of some type. From first inspection, the grey alien appeared to be monitoring Axl.

The little grey alien looked up from its monitoring, turning its large solid black eyes on the stunned duo. It blinked, once, then gestured towards Axl.

"I have done as you asked. The body is fully repaired and, according to what data you have given us, is fully operational. You communiqué spoke of providing us with the ultimate weapon against the Replicators." One brow arched, expectant.

"_So I have promised, so I shall deliver._"

The voice which spoke was odd, sounding as though it were a three part harmony which came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Vaguely, X realized, the one part of the harmonic voice was coming from himself, a second part from Zero, and the final third from...

(_Axl..._)

The ghostly form of Axl dressed in Death's garbs looked over at Zero and X both. The fallen warrior's shade snickered somewhat at their expressions. Then, still snickering, turned to examine his repaired body.

"_You have done well, Supreme Commander Thor. All of the critical damage which would have stopped my charge from returning to his mortal form has been repaired exquisitely. The payment you seek, the virus which cannot be stopped once unleashed, which your scientists can edit only so far as to turn Replicator against Replicator and insure their mutual destruction regardless of how advanced they become, it rests within this charge._"

Axl-Death blurred, vanished, only to reappear partially draped over Zero.

"You need your armor, Zero..." Axl-Death whispered in Zero's ear. Green eyes partially hazed with exhaustion turned to look at X. "X, too... Armor up, guys... Can't... stay awake..."

"_Rest, Axl, my charge. Return to your body and rest. The remainder I can finish alone._"

Axl-Death seemed reluctant at first. Slowly, though, he agreed, blurring once more before vanishing again. This time, he did not return. Instead the active status lights on Axl's armor, the gems which had, until then, been as lifeless as the core generator of the body which powered them, began to glow. The Reploid body which had been dead for over a month began to stir, artificial lungs pulling in the first sweet breath of cooling air for the first time in far too long. The capsule holding the body, holding Axl, opened with a hiss of compressed air.

"Axl!"

The shout was in unison, X and Zero moving at top speed, oblivious to all but the fact Axl was falling face down onto cold alien steel. Neither remembered calling for their armors – but neither cared, especially since it was only thanks to their respective dash systems that they managed to catch Axl in time.

"Kid?" Zero grabbed Axl by the shoulders, shaking him lightly, while X worked on moving them all into a more comfortable pileup. "Kid? Axl?"

There was a moan from Axl. To both Hunters, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Zero grabbed the boy in a full body check, ignorant of the tears streaming unchecked down his face. X copied his friend's lead, doing his best to wrap both Zero and Axl in one gargantuan monster of a hug. Somehow in the tangle of limbs, Axl managed to reach around and tug on Zero's hair.

"Guys... Air...!"

"Oh, right, air." The group hug broke slightly, Zero and X leaning back just enough to grant Axl some much needed breathing room.

"Axl, are you alright?" X was the first to demand. Green eyes answered the question with a confused blink.

"I'm... kinda sleepy," a point which was accented by a tired yawn, "but I'm okay. I mean, it's not like I was dead or something." At his mentors' grim, tearstained expressions, Axl added with a slight meep, "...Was I...?"

X and Zero exchanged looks with one another. Coming to some silent conclusion, Zero took a gentle hold on Axl's right shoulder while X took hold of Axl's left shoulder. Gently, the two senior Hunters leaned Axl forward, moving so that the boy's forehead was resting against his mentors'. Then, slowly, X mentally reached for his connection to Axl, Zero doing the same.

(_This is what happened to you, Axl... This is everything which has happened since we... we lost you.._)

Axl's first reaction was to gasp, physically stunned as welcome thoughts brushed against his own for the first time in over a month. As more and more memories from X and Zero rushed through him, and their feelings of loneliness, sadness, despair, hope began to cover him, his sense of self began to dissolve, lost in the rush of mind meeting with mind. Comfort and warmth flooded him as he knew it flooded X and Zero, as he knew they too were loosing track of whose thought was whose.

"_My charges,_" the three part harmony of voices whispered, its bind no longer broken. "_My charges, you are safe, you are well. The damage has been repaired._" Its attention shifted from the Hunter trio to Thor. _"I have given you what you need?"_

"You have given us beyond what we need. Should the virus work as promised, the Asgard race as a whole shall be in your debt." Thor tipped his head ever so slightly in show of his thanks.

"_Then perhaps you can grant my charges one... Two more small favors._"

"Name them."

"_The first: my charges' home world is in grave danger. My charges must be returned to it – but we do not know where our home is. Can you find it for us?_"

Thor was silent for a moment, thinking. Presently he noted, "Such a task will take time, but it is possible. Your second request?"

"_My charge_," and for a moment, Zero's voice echoed louder than X's or Axl's, "_in an effort to help Colonel O'Neill and his team deal with the rogue group, the NID, recently went undercover. To do so, he dyed his hair. My charge's vanity, I must admit, boarders on obscene at times, but it would be greatly appreciated if the dye were to be removed without damaging his hair further?_"

Thor gave no audible response. Instead, he brushed one stick-like hand over a control mechanism. In a flash, the trio was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

A quick note on MacKenzie – I've not seen many episodes with him in them, so I'm basing his persona off of fanfics I've read. In specific, the stories written by Vathara (whose writing skills put my own to mortal shame). If you've not read her work, then what the heck are you doing reading this?! Go. Go and read her awesome fics!

Note #2: This is it. Chapter 13. Late due to schoolwork (darn those essays) but here nonetheless. As of this chapter SSRA:Remixed goes back on hiatus due to lack of plot bunnies. Thanks to those who reviewed and called it "epic". Never written an epic before...

* * *

_**Shooting Stars and Reploid Arms: Remixed**_

_Chapter 13_

_

* * *

  
_

"Robots."

"Reploids," countered a calmer, much less irritated voice.

"Robots," Colonel O'Neill repeated, headless of the correction. "You three are freakin' robots."

"Reploids, Colonel, not robots. And yes," Zero chimed in before the O'Neill could counter, "There is a difference."

Colonel O'Neill glared at all three armored robots – sorry, _Reploids_ – who had been working extensively with SGC personnel for the past six months under the guise of being human. Only they weren't human. They were f'in _robots_. Alien robots. From outer bloody space. Who knew what kind of damage they could have caused the SGC. One of them had been Janet's much needed assistant medic fer cryin' out loud!

At the moment, the three robots were camped in said doctor's med ward. The youngest of the trio, the one who had been dead until Thor had shown up and pulled an Asgard tech trick out of a hat, looked to be out cold in some kind of resurrection-exhaustion-stasis, and was using a med cot for a bed. To his right was seated Honorary Dr. Light, if that even was his name, who looked perfectly at home filling out sundry paperwork while dressed in blue armor instead of doctor's scrubs. To the unconscious robot's left was the, at the moment, frizzy blond haired robot in red armor. Who, it appeared, was entertaining himself with some pilfered cards, a foldout chair-turned-table, a game of solitaire, and generally making O'Neill want to rip his hair out in frustration with that smirk of his.

_It, damn it, __it_.

They may have looked human. They may have acted human. And one of them may have been the best thing to happen to Janet since MacKenzie had been tossed out on his ear for being a lying excuse for a psychologist. But. They, were not, humans. They were robots and therefore were _its_ instead of a _he_ or a _him_.

"So," Daniel did his best to sound civil even though his efforts earned him a glare from Jack, "You three are from a technologically advanced planet. So advanced, in fact, that robots like yourselves, Reploids, are sentient and emotionally self-aware."

Moving an ace of hearts up to the top of his game, Zero responded with a lazy, "Yep."

"Thor explained the situation, I presume?" X added in, not once looking up from his stack of paperwork. He paused for a moment, gave a doctor's typical hum, then removed a few sheets of paper from the pile and set them off to the side. In a few quick strokes, a sticky-note label had been applied reading in big block print REVIEW. "Something about one of SG-4's boys doesn't look quite right," X explained at O'Neill's subtle glace. "Not something wrong of the hitchhiker variety. Just... something not quite right. Maybe a cold? I'd need Dr. Fraiser to look over my analysis before I could give you anything definitive."

"Oh. Right." It took Jack a moment to realize the tables had been turned on him, Jackson-style. At once, he was standing a few inches straighter, his glare intensifying a fraction. "Oh no you don't."

"Don't what?" X asked, looking up from his paperwork with an expression reminiscent of Daniel being caught mid-ramble about a bunch of Ancient rocks. All sweet, innocent, and naïve about having said something wrong – or of having distracted Jack from a military rant of his own.

"You just tried to change the subject!" O'Neill accused.

"Of course I did," X agreed, voice calm as ever. "Thor has already given you all the information on Zero, Axl, and myself that you need. You know we don't know where or how to get back to our home world. You know our arrival here was pure accident. You know our intentions – that is one bit of information we've never hid from any member of the SGC, yourself included. Aside from briefing us on your plan to protect Cassandra from Maverick-backed NID agents and rearranging duty schedules to work Axl back into SG-3's main rotation, what more is there to talk about?"

Off to the side, Zero bit down a snicker at O'Neill's shell-shocked expression. Signus may have been the Hunter's head honcho, but that was only because X had a limit on how much political BS he could stomach at a time.

"Wait, what was that about Cassie?" Daniel cut in.

"Presuming Major Carter didn't try to hack into my external memory stick and instead used the pass-code I gave you guys when Thor was so kind as to dump us down here?" Zero flipped the ace of spades into position between the ace of hearts and ace of diamonds. "Then I'd say you'll be finding out about the NID's less than friendly spying on Ms. Fraiser and a certain miniature version of everyone's favorite colonel about – now."

Right on cue, an airman stuck his head in, medical phone pressed up against shoulder. "Colonel O'Neill, sir? It's Major Carter. She says she has a critical situation, sir."

* * *

General Hammond stood inside his favorite debriefing room, the one which stood above the main command center and whose windows overlooked the 'Gate-room itself. He stood as he had many times before and as he likely would many times again: at parade rest with his hands behind his back and his back to the main door. Instead of contemplating a cup of coffee or tea, the head of the SGC considered the numerous problems facing him by examining every minute detail of the Stargate itself.

So many wonders. So many nightmares. So many reasons to just shut the damn ring down for good and call it a day. And so very many reasons to keep going, keep looking, and keep exploring...

"They're freakin' robots, Daniel! You can't play nice with robots! Did the Replicators teach you nothing?"

....And keep fighting off headaches from loose-cannon 2ICs.

Oh, Colonel O'Neill was a good soldier and a good commanding officer. It was just his... unorthodox way of handling situations which left both Hammond and his immediate supervisors reaching for aspirin. Dr. Fraiser was not the only one who had a list of damages caused by Jack – although her list tended to deal with things which happened _to_ Colonel O'Neill. Hammond's list dealt more with what happened to an overabundance of requisitioned C4 plus detonators and the resulting aftereffects. Keeping in mind, of course, that the last time O'Neill had left Earth with more of a C4 ration than he had been allowed, it had been Thor doing the grabbing and Replicators doing the exploding.

Speaking of the Asgard in question –

"All right, people," Hammond cut into the SG-1 normal background banter he'd all but been ignoring, silencing the four-member unit scattered about the meeting table. Taking a seat for himself, he said simply, "Let's get this mess cleared out starting with our immediate concern. Major Carter?"

The astrophysics major sat straighter in her chair, her hands shuffling a loose pile of papers into order. "Sir. I've gone over the data Thor left us with regarding the three Reploids – the proper name for the autonomous robots – currently located in med bay. Their weapon specs look remarkably similar to those weapons we've recovered from second generation Super Soldiers."

"Told yah they're bad guys," Jack shot in.

"However," Carter pressed on, shooting her superior a _look_, "The tech specs between the Reploids' weapons and the second generation Super Soldiers' weapons are different. It's as though Anubis only had a partial blueprint, if even that much, of their weapons' systems."

"So the modifications aren't complete?" Hammond asked.

"As far as I can tell, sir?" Sam shrugged. "No, sir, the systems on the second gen are not complete. If I had to take a guess, sir, I'd assume Anubis is using information he acquired when he ascended but for some reason cannot fully remember."

"That makes sense," Daniel chimed in. At the room's group inquisitive glance, Jackson continued on, "Think about what Ancient tech Anubis has and hasn't used yet. I, for one, refuse to believe all the Ancients are willing to let Anubis do with us as he pleases without leveling the playing field for us somewhat. Someone up there could be blocking his full memories –and didn't realize until too late just how much of a problem this type of non-Ancient tech, this Reploid stuff, could be."

"At which point, they may have moved X, Zero, and Axl into position to be of assistance," Teal'c added, sounding contemplative.

"Exactly!"

Jack grumped. "I don't like it. It sounds too iffy – too fishy."

"But, sir, they _are_ here." Clutching the paper tight enough to turn her knuckles white, Samantha added, "And they want to help protect Cassie."

"Cassandra would not be in possession of information our enemies at the NID would find valuable," Teal'c stated with an obvious note of confusion.

"According to the data Zero recovered, they're not after any type of information," Carter answered, voice tight.

A second of silence passed before Daniel realized, "They're after her. Her genetic coding. The modifications Nirrti did to her – if they could stabilize those mutations and then clone her..."

"They'd be able to build an army of rogue X-Men. Only it'd be worse," Jack grimly realized.

"Because if anything were to happen to Cassie, we'd all be devastated, Janet especially," Daniel continued.

Teal'c lifted an expressive eyebrow, tilting his head to the side slightly as he leaned forward. "I have noticed that Honorary Dr. Light has placed an inordinate amount of effort into insuring Dr. Frasier's continued well-being. It is perhaps a part of his programming to protect his human superiors from harm if he is able to. In that case, protecting Cassandra Fraiser would protect Dr. Fraiser as well."

"Am I to assume, then, that SG-1 would approve assigning at least one of the Reploids to guard Cassandra even though we know nothing about them?" General Hammond asked, his own brow raised in inquiry.

"Well, it's not that we don't know anything about them," Daniel chimed in. "We have their basic schematics on hand – or at least Sam does. And I've talked to SG-3, all of whom vouch for Alex – er, Axl – as a great guy overall. A little videogame obsessed, but when you come down to it, what teenager isn't? And Zero – SG-3 will vouch for Zackary as well – at least when it comes to turning Super Soldiers into sashimi. He hasn't really been a part of SG-3 long enough for Makepeace to get a good read on his personality. Xavier we all already know – I mean, he survived Jack's barbeque. How bad could the guy be?"

"I think the problem here is he's not a guy, Daniel. He's a robot! Have we forgotten about how evil robots are?" O'Neill asked with his usual level of annoyance.

"P3X-989, Jack," Daniel countered. At Jack's blank look, he added, "Altair."

The android duplicates. The android duplicates who had given their lives to save Juna, to defeat Cronus, and save O'Neill's team. O'Neill wrinkled his nose as though he had tasted something foul. "Okay, I'll give. Not all robots are bad." At the archeologist's half smug, half relieved look, Jack added, "But Daniel? These guys aren't duplicates. They aren't from Altair which means they're probably not the good type of robot."

A loud sarcastic sigh echoed from the main entrance. Turning, SG-1 and General Hammond found Zero in his civilian cloths holding up the back wall with an air of someone who had been waiting for children to finish their squabbles.

"If X were a betting 'ploid, he'd owe me his paycheck." Zero looked lazily over at Jack. "He had figured you'd be on to planning how to keep Cassie out of the line of fire by now. Not about how untrustworthy we Reploids might be. After all, Colonel, if we had wanted to disrupt the SGC's operations, we would have done so from the start. Instead," Zero pushed himself off the wall, moving to take a seat at the meeting table, "We've been working our afts off every way we can to help. X has been backing up Dr. Fraiser with the occasional backup from yours truly. Axl and I went off on mission after mission for you guys. We covered SG units' collective asses whenever we could. A job that will get a hell of a lot easier now that you guys know we're armed – because if you know we've got portable armor, you're not likely to shoot any of us in the back in the event we do have to armor-up mid-mission.

"And like Major Carter said: we want to help protect Cassie. Even though Axl swears if she tries to ask him on a date again, he _will_ put bleach in her shampoo."

"She tried to what?" the mother in Sam squawked. At Zero's knowing laugh, Sam began to strangle innocent paperwork.

General Hammond, ignoring his infuriated 3IC for the moment, leveled his top glare towards Zero. "You'll forgive me if I ask why mechanisms such as yourself and your colleagues would be willing to put yourselves between harm's way and a human child."

Zero shrugged, nonchalant. "Because she's just that, General, sir. She's a child. Doesn't matter who you are or where you're from, or even what you're made of, children are children all the same. And no one messes with a kid. Not if we can help it."

Zero was tempted to tell them of what had happened to the last person who had tried to harm a child with Hunters in striking range. Children, technically, as orphanages housed more than one rug-rat and/or insanity's harbingers at a time. The Maverick who had decided to plant a bomb inside of and then use the orphanage's occupants as hostages had been an idiot in more ways than one. The first mistake had been hiding in a warehouse and planning on using a remote detonator. The second was that he'd picked an orphanage X was visiting personally. End of the day, X had tied Zero's record for the fastest decapitation of a Maverick, and pulled out a good chunk of his bottomless bank account to give those kids one hell of a Christmas party. In other words, people didn't mess with kids when X was on the clock. That is, unless they wanted to end up dead.

(_Ugh. Day I would rather forget, thanks._) X chimed in. Hiding his snicker, Zero agreed with the otherwise unheard request not to share that particular adventure in babysitting with SG-1 – even though it would prove a point.

"Very well, then." General Hammond's southern-tipped voice knocked Zero from his musings. "Zackary,"

"Zero, sir," Zero corrected not unkindly.

"Zero," the general accepted the correction with a slight nod of his head. "In light of the fact Alex, Dr. Light, and yourself are all specialized robotic humanoids, alias Reploids, on loan from the Asgard for field testing, I am reassigning you to assist Dr. Light and Dr. Fraiser. After all, in this line of work, you can never be too careful in protecting your medics."

Zero's eyes were alight with mischief as he stood and snapped off a perfect salute, "Yes sir, general, sir." Prototype Asgard tech – oh if he could be a fly on the wall when the folks up the food chain heard their cover story!

"Furthermore, I am returning Alex Wallace, alias Axl," Hammond paused for a moment to shoot a questioning look at Zero.

"That's his name, sad enough," Zero replied, snickering.

"I am returning Axl to active duty with SG-3. Aside from a note regarding his emergency leave of absence abroad," which everyone knew was a cover for time off due to death, "nothing more will be marked in his file. Paperwork wise, it will be as if he nothing ever happened. In regards to Cassandra..."

"Oh, you can leave that one to us, general." Zero's smile was all teeth. "Because, you see, we donated all of Axl's cloths to Good Will, so he'll need someone of the feminine persuasion to help him pick out the perfect outfit or two from the mall this weekend. And poor, poor X just can't seem to get a good night's sleep down here anymore. Why, he might even have to bunk at Dr. Frasier's house for the foreseeable future. And I've got such a bad sense of direction. Who knows? I might be out on the town getting lunch some weekday and find my lost self driving past Cassie's school."

"And if any of you just _happen_ to run across a couple of suites in a black nondescript SUV," General Hammond added on.

"Why you might just _accidentally_ slash their tires or something," Jack added, pictures of chaos dancing through his head overriding his initial worry regarding the robotic trio's continued involvement. Scuttlebutt had it those guys had come up with some interesting pranks – so they had to have a heart under all that metal...right?

"Or something," Zero answered, his smile promising pure carnage. "And with regards to Mini-Jack? Well, sir, he's Jack. Send him a heads-up and I'm pretty sure teenage Kilroy junior will help the nasty NID see the errors of their ways in record time."

Daniel bit back a snicker at that. He wasn't the only one, either. Sam had found enough humor in thoughts of potential Mini-Jack sprouted mayhem to smile while Teal'c's own features held a ghost of a smirk.

Meanwhile, in the back of Zero's head, Axl was grumbling something about plots of revenge. (_I just came back from the dead, Zero, and now you want to torture me with _shopping_? At a _mall_? With Cassandra? Her mother 'll kill me! Again!_)

(_Oh, don't worry too much, Axl. I understand from Zero and Dr. Jackson's respective files that a second or third time kicking the bucket isn't nearly as annoying as the first._) X's thoughts were pure laughter.

Axl's own thoughts ground to a sleepy incoherency which politely boiled down to, (_I am so doomed_.)


End file.
